The Meeting
by AJCrane
Summary: Damian has only been at the manor for a couple of days. He learns that his father has other children, but he hasn't met them yet. Dick learns that Bruce has a biological son. So, why is Damian trying to kill Dick?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry this story has not been updated yet. If you read my profile, my computer contracted a nasty virus that had to be taken care of. I had to make sure my files were protected, and my operating system was reinstalled. I am waiting on the word from the Geek Squad at Best Buy when everything has been completed. I just hope I will not have to reinstall software. That will delay me even more. In the mean time, I am enjoying reading everyone else's stories. Please continue reading and leaving reviews.

/

The Meeting

By

AJ

Damian Wayne had only been at Wayne Manor for a couple of days. He was exploring the house when he noticed the room that he had been given was far from his father's. He walked down the hall and saw on each of the doors a nameplate. The room closest to his father's had the name Richard. Damian opened the door and discovered there were items in the room belonging to someone. There was a circus poster on the wall, trophies on a shelf, as well as several books. There was a pair of athletic shoes sticking out from under the bedspread. Who was this Richard? 'I should be in this room,' Damian thought jealously. Even so, his curiosity still wondered who was Richard.

'Maybe the room across the hall is vacant," he thought. When Damian moved across the hall, the room on the other side of his Father's room had the name Jason, but the room was locked. Why would Father lock this room? Had something happened to the boy? He would have to ask Father why that room was locked.

The room next to Richard's room also had a nameplate, a boy by the name of Timothy. Who were these children? Had Father had other sons that Damian wasn't aware of? His Mother said he was the only true son of Bruce Wayne. Had his Mother lied to him? Damian's brow furrowed in a familiar scowl. He would have to set her straight on that subject, but mostly he would have to ask his father. Damian remembered seeing the shoes in Richard's room. They didn't look like the shoes of a child. He didn't go into Timothy's room, but he suspected that Timothy would be the same way, older than him by a good many years.

There was a lot more "house" to explore, but Damian had a lot of questions. With his exploration completed for the day, Damian settled down in his father's study. He picked up a book and started reading, waiting for his father to return home. Hours went by and Damian fell asleep. The book that was open on his lap slipped to the floor. He was barely aware of someone picking him up and placing him on a soft bed and sheets and blanks being pulled over him.

"Who is he?" Dick asked as Bruce picked up the sleeping boy.

"He's my son," Bruce said. "You weren't here when he was dropped off by his mother."

"What?" Dick was confused. He thought that Bruce had no children, other than him and Jason, and they were both adopted. Dick thought about that time. Jason had been adopted when Dick was 18 and away at Hudson University. His second year had been his toughest, not because of his classes, but because of being a partnered hero, a college student, and leader of the Teen Titans was taking it's toll. So, that year he gave up being Robin to concentrate on his studies. He couldn't quite give up the Titans so he came up with a new identity. It worked, for the most part. Six months later, Jason became Robin. Dick had watched his exploits, but could see that the boy had problems with authority. Dick thought about challenging his right to wear the moniker because it had been a name his parents had given him, but decided that maybe he really didn't have that right. Batman needed a Robin, and Dick felt maybe he was just too old for the part, and yet he felt somewhat lost without Batman at his side. Jason had only been Robin for three years when the Joker killed him. Then Timothy came along, and he was proving to be just as good being Robin as Dick had been. Not quite the acrobatic type, but skilled in other ways. Dick liked Tim and whatever jealousy he might have felt from Jason, there was none with Tim. Now discovering that Bruce had a son he never knew about, Dick had a lot of questions.

"So, who's his mother?"

"Talia al Ghul," Bruce answered. "Apparently she somehow managed to get my DNA."

"So, he's a clone of some sort?"

"I checked the first day he arrived. He has a mix of her DNA and mine. How he was created, I don't know, but he isn't a clone. He's his own person."

"So how old is he?"

"He's roughly ten years old, from what I can gather."

"Why did she hide that from you?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

/

Dick went down to the cave and saw that Tim was working on a report. He didn't feel like going back to Bludhaven.

"You should be going to bed," Dick said. "You need to get some sleep."

"No more than you do, and someone has to write this report. May as well be me. You going back to Bludhaven?"

"Not tonight. I'm taking a week off from the Bludhaven PD. Officer Grayson has earned it after not taking any time off for two years."

"So, where's Bruce? I though we were supposed to go on patrol tonight."

"Came back from the Wayne Foundation Charity Ball."

"I didn't think you went in for that sort of thing," Tim said.

"I don't normally, but he asked me to come along."

"So, what's he doing?"

"Saying goodnight to . . . his son," Dick said quietly, a pang of jealousy rising in his chest. He knew it was irrational, but he could not help feeling the way that he did. Learning that Bruce had a biological son made him feel like a third wheel; that what Bruce had been teaching him about Wayne Enterprises and the Foundation was now irrelevant. He had an heir and didn't need him. "Maybe you're right. I think I will head back to Bludhaven. I'll need to grab some things."

Dick went into the uniform vault and grabbed his Nightwing gear and placed it in a duffle bag. He then headed up to his room. He hadn't fully unpacked, which he was glad that he hadn't. Maybe it was time to take what he left behind, time to move on. Taking an empty box from the closet, Dick started to pack his trophies when suddenly something hit him from behind. Dick reacted in the only way that he could, he used the wall to his advantage, leapt up with his feet, pushed against it and as he leapt outward flipped over whomever it was that hit him from behind. Dick landed on the other side but didn't expect to suddenly be sliced with a sword.

"OOOWWW! Hey! You're going to hurt someone with that . . . mainly me!"

When he got a good look at the person who attacked him, he realized it was the ten-year-old kid that Bruce introduced him to, or at least showed him. The kid had been asleep when he saw him.

"WHO ARE YOU?" the kid demanded.

"I could ask you the same question," Dick said. He was also aware that the slice to his middle was burning. Could there have been poison on the blade?

Dick suddenly leapt again, coming closer so the kid with the sword could not use it so easily on him. He didn't want to hurt the kid, but being sliced with a sword wasn't his idea of playtime. Dick tried to grab the kid by the wrist and tried to shove him up against the wall to disarm him. Instead the kid leapt aside, surprising Dick. Several books were knocked off a shelf and a lamp came crashing down to the floor. "I don't want to hurt you, but you better put that blade away."

"You hurt me? Your skills cannot match mine," the kid sliced at Dick Grayson again, narrowly missing him. This time Dick's clothes got the worst of it. The only place Dick could go to be out of the reach of the sword was up. Leaping up on the desk and launching himself up into the air, Dick grabbed the chandelier and pulled himself up. He hadn't hung from the fixture since it was a boy. He was lighter then.

"COWARD!" shouted the kid.

"I'm not a coward, I just don't want to get sliced to ribbons," Dick responded. "You're the one with the sword, so why are you trying to kill me?"

"YOU ARE A THIEF!"

"And you're a pint-sized killer," Dick argued. "And this is my room. I'm not a thief!"

Crack!

'Oh no,' Dick looked up to see the chandelier starting to pull away from the ceiling. Plus, he was starting to feel dizzy. 'I was right, there must be poison . . .' Dick didn't finish the thought when the chandelier gave way and crashed to the floor. Even though he did his best to try to leap away, he wasn't fast enough. Dick partially landed on top of the chandelier. Glass flew everywhere. He tried to lift himself off the floor but was kicked back down. He could feel cold steel being pressed against his throat.

"DAMIAN STOP!"

"Bruce . . ." Dick said weakly as Bruce knelt down. "Poison."

Dick blacked out at that moment, slipping into unconsciousness.

Continues with Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: This took me a couple of days to think about which direction this was going to go. I want this to be longer than just one of two parts. Sorry for not posting yesterday. It was my 31st Wedding Anniversary.**_

/

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 2

"Bruce . . ." Dick said weakly as Bruce knelt down. "Poison."

Dick blacked out at that moment, slipping into unconsciousness.

Bruce saw the wound through Dick's bloody shirt. It wasn't that deep, more of a scratch then a serious wound, but what did his son say, that there was poison? Bruce turned toward Damian and saw the bloody sword in his hand.

"What was on the blade?"

Damian stood stalk still, a scowl on his face. "He was stealing Richard's things."

"WHAT WAS ON THE BLADE?" Bruce demanded ignoring his son's statement.

"He's a thief!" Damian yelled back.

"No, he's not." Bruce said quietly, "He's my son and your brother."

Damian's eyes grew wide. Richard? He was Richard? Damian dropped the sword and ran from the room, his chest heaving.

'I . . . I killed . . . my brother?' Damian said confused. 'NO! I have no brothers. I am the true son of Bruce Wayne. Mother said I was the only son. And if I am, who is this Richard? And why did my father say he is his son? I must speak with Mother.'

Damian raced down the stairs to his father's study. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. 'I need to know the truth. Who is this Richard and why didn't my Mother tell me about him?'

/

Bruce picked up the sword that dropped from Damian's hands then picked up the unconscious Dick Grayson and carried him down the stairs.

"ALFRED!" Bruce cried out.

"Sir?" Alfred rushed from the music room as he heard Bruce call. Seeing the unconscious figure in Bruce's arms he rushed back into the music room. He opened the face of an old grandfather clock and moved the hands to where they pointed straight up to 12:00. The clock swung out from its base to reveal a staircase leading down into the cave. "Alfred, make sure no one comes down here, and I mean NO ONE."

"Master Timothy is already down there. I just took him a meal. What has happened?"

"Damian just tried to kill Dick," Bruce said. "The wound isn't bad, but there's poison on the blade. I need to determine what it is to know how to treat Dick. I just hope the poison that is on the sword has an antidote. Make sure Damian doesn't leave."

/

Damian waited for what seemed like five minutes for the phone on the other end to answer. His Mother wasn't available, and yet this was the phone number he had been given. He did not want to leave a message on the outside chance that someone else would pick up the message. What kind of game was his Mother playing?

Damian hung up the phone, discouraged, and fuming that his Mother would leave him here without any other way of contacting her. Now he couldn't get his questions answered.

Alfred came in seeing the discouraged look on the boy's face, though his own anger was barely in check when he learned what Damian had done to Dick.

"You seem troubled, young sir?" Alfred asked, though he would have preferred to reprimand the boy for his actions. And under the circumstances the only respect he would show this impudent child was addressing him in the formal tone.

"It's none of your business Pennyworth. Don't you have duties to attend to?"

Alfred stiffened at Damian's remarks. "Yes, Master Damian and I am seeing to that duty right now."

"And what duty is that?"

"Watching you," Alfred said.

"I don't like your tone, Pennyworth."

"Your Father asked me to keep an eye on you, and that is exactly what I am doing."

Damian crossed his arms in defiance. He was only trying to protect Richard's belongings only to find out that the man who was in Richard's room was Richard Wayne. Why hadn't his father said anything to him two days ago when he arrived, or had he? Damian couldn't remember. He was so bent on wanting to meet his father that he didn't listen to anything else. He had to clear his mind and think about what his father said to him when he arrived.

"You have two brothers you will meet later," his father had said.

'Two brothers?" Damian said in response. "My Mother said I was your son."

"Your brothers are adopted."

"Adopted?" Damian frowned at that. Why would his father adopt two sons? And what of the third name, what was it? Oh yeah. Jason. His father had created a mystery for him.

'He should have just told me their names,' Damian's thoughts were brought to the present as Bruce entered the study.

"Why was there yellow oleander nectar on the blade?"

Damian didn't answer his father at first, but glared at him in return.

"Did you say Oleander, Master Bruce?"

"Yes."

"That is a slow acting poison when ingested. What was it doing on a sword and how did Master Damian get a hold of a sword in the first place?"

"The sword belongs to me. It was given to me by my Grandfather."

"Your Grandfather, Master Damian?" Alfred asked as he turned to face the child standing with his arms crossed in front of the fireplace.

"Ra's al Ghul," Bruce said. 'I still don't know how Talia got a sample of my DNA. I never laid a hand on her.' Bruce turned to Alfred rather than dealing with Damian right now. They weren't starting this relationship out very well and right now, he had other matters to tend to, and one of them was finding the antidote to whatever Damian had given Dick through that sword. "I need to see Dr. Leslie Thomplins, see if she will know what antidote is needed."

"Can you not find out using . . ." Alfred started to say something, but decided against it when he noticed the slight shaking of Bruce's head. They didn't know how much Damian knew. Talia might have told him the truth of who Batman was, but he wasn't about to learn everything right at that moment.

"I've moved Dick to my car. I'm taking him down to her clinic. Pray that I get there in time."

Continues with Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 3

'Pray that I get there in time,' those had been the last words, Bruce said as he drove to Gotham City as he safely as he could.

'Ohhhhh," Dick had come to in the back seat. "Oh my stomach."

"Take it easy Dick," Bruce said. "I'm taking you to see Leslie." What Bruce didn't want to mention was he knew what antidote Dick needed, but he didn't have any in the cave otherwise he would have started him on an IV immediately. Now, with time slipping away, it was going to take longer for that antidote to work.

"Why's everything blurry?" Dick asked, his words coming out somewhat slurred. The cramping to his stomach forced Dick to try to curl up into a ball, but the seatbelt didn't let him get very far.

Bruce could hear Dick trying to take in as much air as possible. That meant his airways were being constricted. 'NO! I've got to get there in time!' His heart was being torn in two with the pain-filled moans that Dick cried out in the back seat.

'Why did my parents have to build that house out in the country?' Bruce questioned, but then he realized how much that house helped him to become the man that he is, and the crime fighter, but right now, he was being a father and his son was hurting. He didn't want to think about the worst.

'Damn you Talia! I know this is somehow your fault.' Tears were blinding Bruce's vision, but he still managed to find his way through the streets to Park Row. 'I don't care if my car's stolen or even stripped. Just so my son lives.'

Parking the car in front of the clinic, Bruce climbed out and opened the back seat. Lifting Dick from under his arms, Bruce pulled him across the seat in order so he could get him into his arms and carry him into the clinic. There were several people already sitting in the waiting area.

"HEY BUDDY! Wait your turn!"

"I was here first!"

"My son's been poisoned, he needs immediate attention!" Bruce growled.

"Bruce?" Leslie emerged from one of the exam rooms.

"Please Leslie, you've got to help Dick."

"Oooooohhhh," Dick moaned, his eyes screwed shut. "Please, make it stop."

Bruce could feel Dick's muscles tightening up further and his shirt was wet from sweat.

"Bruce, I have six patients ahead of you. You'll just have to wait . . ."

"HE'S BEEN POISONED!" Bruce growled.

"What? How? Do you know what he was given?" Leslie questioned.

"I'd rather not say how."

"Do you know what kind of poison?"

"Hey! We were here first. Send that jerk to another clinic!" Someone yelled in the background.

"Yellow Oleander," Bruce's voice went down to a whisper, his mind blocking out the angry voices behind him.

"That's going to take Digoxin Immune Fab. Don't you . . ."

"I don't have any," Bruce said, "And you know why."

"I'm a small clinic," Leslie stated. "You need to take him . . ."

"You know I can't," Bruce's voice was low and hard.

"Very well, take him to exam room 6. It just emptied out."

"HEY!"

"It will be all right sir. This is an emergency," Leslie tried to placate those who were there first.

"So are my needs. Why does he get to go ahead of me?"

"His son has been poisoned. He has to be treated immediately. I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"I've been waiting for an hour."

"I'm sorry but it can't be helped," Leslie did her best to calm the rest of her patients.

Bruce carried his son to exam room six and placed Dick on the examination table. He carefully removed the bloody shirt making sure his hands did not touch any of the poison laced blood. Dick's wound continued to bleed, and he could see that his son was in a great deal of pain from the cramping of his stomach. He tried to keep Dick calm by stroking his hair. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with Damian when he got back. Right now, all he wanted to do was stay with Dick to be sure he would receive the help that he needed. It was another hour before Leslie came in to see Bruce and Dick.

"I'm sorry," Leslie said. "This has been a tough week. With the odd temperature changes we've been having, a lot of people have been getting sick. And you know not a lot of people around here can afford a regular doctor." Leslie noticed that Bruce had removed Dick's shirt. "Now, tell me, how did he get poisoned by yellow oleander? He didn't ingest it did he?"

"No," Bruce said as he rubbed Dick's back with one hand while stroking his hair with another. Dick was still curled into a ball from the cramping of his stomach. "Come on Dick, you have to open up, stretch out."

"No," Dick said, his voice tight with the pain. "It hurts."

Leslie noticed Dick's bloody shirt on the floor then realized that there was blood on the exam table that Dick was lying on.

"He's bleeding," Leslie's eyes became narrow. She put on a pair of surgical gloves to examine the wound that she could barely see from Dick's curled form. "Come on Dick, you have to let me see that wound."

Between Leslie and Bruce, they were able to open Dick's form despite his protests. Bruce could not help but ache for his son when he saw the tears streaming down Dick's face. He was in a great deal of pain and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"This wound was made by a blade," Leslie stated. "How did he get poisoned, Bruce?"

"There was oleander nectar on the blade." Bruce confessed, but did not want to go into any details.

"Who did this Bruce? You know I have to report any knife or gunshot wound."

"Please, Leslie," Bruce begged. "I can't tell you. If I did, you probably wouldn't believe me, and it would take a great deal more to explain than I can right now."

Leslie examined the wound further and could see that it wasn't too deep, but deep enough to continue bleeding slowly and to allow the yellow oleander to penetrate. She cleaned the wound then placed a large dressing over the cut. It would have to be changed until the bleeding stopped and the blood to clot. Even so, the oleander might also have non-clotting properties, which means the sooner Dick got the antidote the better.

"All right, I won't argue with you, but I will expect an explanation later, even if I have to come to your home to get it. I may have to just to check up on Dick. He's going to have to be watched in any case. I'll be right back."

Leslie left to check her supply of drugs, but she returned far quicker than Bruce expected. "Unfortunately, I don't have any Digoxin Immune Fab here either. I'm going to have to call around to the hospitals to see if anyone has some. Before I can do that, I have to take care of my other patients. I may not be able to get to it until then."

Leslie started to walk away then turned back.

"Dick is lucky that yellow oleander is a slow acting poison. It can take up to two days for a person to die. Let's hope that the amount that got into his system though wasn't very much. Though it doesn't take much either."

Leslie turned to see the worried look on Bruce's face. "Don't worry Bruce. I'll do everything that I can to get that antidote. It wouldn't hurt if our mutual bat friend would assist in that effort as well."

Bruce knew whom Leslie was referring to, but he didn't want to leave Dick in order to conduct his own search. He was in a quandary, but perhaps there was another way. With his wristwatch communication link, Bruce pressed a button and hoped Tim was still in the Batcave.

"Bruce?"

"Thank goodness. Tim I need you to do something for me."

"Where are you calling from? I don't recognize this frequency."

"Never mind that. I need you to check something for me."

"What do you need me to check?" Tim asked.

"I need you to check on who has a supply of Digoxin Immune Fab."

"I . . . I'm not familiar with . . ."

"Tim, I can't explain right now. I need you to check and let me know. It's vital."

"Does this have to do with Dick?" Earlier Tim noticed that Bruce had carried Dick down into the cave and to the medical bay area. He was too involved with entering the reports they had for the past week to ask what was going on. He trusted Bruce to tell him later, but a few hours had gone by and Bruce had not shown himself. Now he was getting a call from him on his wrist communicator.

"Yes," Bruce answered. "I'll let you know later. Just get me that information."

"Sure thing. It's going to take me a few minutes. I'll call you back."

"Fair enough," Bruce just hoped that there was a supply somewhere in Gotham City or his son . . . He didn't want to have to tell Alfred to prepare for a funeral.

Continues with Part 4

**_A/N: Yellow Oleander is a trumpet like flower. The seeds from the flower are very poisonous. It is also referred to as Nerium. The only antidote is Digoxin Immune Fab, which is administered through an IV._**


	4. Chapter 4

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 4

Damian was fuming. There had to be a way to contact his Mother other than using the phone. Why had she given him that phone number if she did not want him to contact her if there were problems? There wasn't even a means for him to leave a message. There had to be a way of finding her. Damian knew his father was the Batman. His Mother explained it to him, but she had no idea where his lair might be. Perhaps he could find it and then Damian would have another means to contact his Mother.

Damian thought about what he knew of his Father. Being Bruce Wayne and living outside of Gotham City, he more than likely had a secret entrance to where the Batman's lair would be, but where would that be? Was the lair hidden in some unused portion of the house somewhere or was it somewhere else? He would start in his Father's study. It was the most likely place for a hidden entrance. Damian moved around the room, his hands probing for any hidden levers that might reveal where there was a secret entrance.

Alfred came in with a tray of food and noticed that Damian was searching around the bookcase. He observed that Damian was bent on finding something. He placed the tray silently on the desk, moved over to the bust and lifted up the head and pushed a button that locked the secret entrance then shut the bust. He picked up the tray one more time then cleared his throat so as not to startle the young master.

Damian swiftly turned around to se Alfred holding a tray of food. It was obvious he did not like being snuck up on.

"What are you doing here, Pennyworth?"

"I brought you something to eat, young Sir," Alfred placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Just then the red phone on Bruce's desk started beeping.

"I'll take it," Damian stated.

"No. I shall," Alfred said and he approached the desk. "Unless you have your father's permission, you cannot pick up that Red phone. It is for his hears only. And as your father's butler, I have permission."

Alfred picked up the phone and heard the commissioner on the other line. "I'm sorry sir, he's out for the day. I shall give him your message."

"Who was it?" Damian asked.

"It is none of your concern, young Sir," Alfred said stiffly.

"I am Bruce Wayne's son. I have a right to know what goes on in this house. I order you to tell me Pennyworth."

"The red phone is for emergencies," Alfred replied. It wasn't a lie. The red phone was always being used for emergencies, emergencies handled by Batman. "I have duties to attend to, young Sir." Alfred said. He was still angry with Damian with the way he treated Dick. Unless Damian showed that he was sorry for what he did, Alfred would only show him the minimum of respect that was at least due him because Damian was Bruce Wayne's son. It also did not give him the right to know everything.

Alfred left Bruce's study and headed to the music room. He would have to lock up the other entrance as well for now. He did not want Damian discovering the cave while Bruce was with Dick.

Alfred went to the Grandfather Clock and pressed a button on one of the finials. The clock would now behave like any other clock and the entrance would remain sealed until it was released. 'Now for Master Timothy.'

Alfred went to the kitchen, took out his key and entered the special hidden elevator behind the row of shelves that held his herbs and spices. Using his key, he went down into the cave.

"Master Timothy, we need to speak."

"Alfred, what is it? I'm trying to locate something for Bruce."

"It's Master Damian," Alfred stated.

"Bruce told me about him but I haven't met him yet."

"Perhaps it is best that you don't for now."

"Alfred, what's going on?"

Alfred told Tim how Damian caught Dick in his own room and believed him to be a thief. "There was oleander on the blade."

"So that's why Bruce wants me to locate a supply of Digoxin Immune Fab. "

"There is also another reason," Alfred stated. "He knows that Bruce Wayne is Batman. He was searching for the cave."

"What?"

"Damian eventually must know, but not while Master Bruce is trying to help Master Dick."

"I agree. So, what are we going to do?"

"I had to lock both entrances to the cave except for the one in the kitchen."

"Your private elevator."

Yes, Master Timothy. If you must come and go, that is the only entrance besides the one used by the Batmobile that will be available. I believe you and Master Richard have keys?"

"Yes, Bruce gave me a copy. With Damian here, it's going to be difficult to hide the fact that Batman and Robin are both here as well."

"You will need to introduce yourself at one point, but I must warn you. Master Damian won't take kindly to the fact that you are here."

"I don't understand," Tim stated.

"He believes he is the only true son of Bruce Wayne."

"Well, Bruce is going to have to set him straight on that one. Bruce adopted me after my father died and I returned as Robin after Steph died. Maybe I should go to Bludhaven and stay there for a while. Won't hurt until Damian gets used to the idea. Does he know about Jason?"

"No. That room Master Bruce keeps locked. He shall eventually learn about Master Jason when the time comes."

"I better continue with my search," Tim rubbed his eyes. He'd been up for over 24 hours, and it was starting to take its toll.

"Master Timothy, you need some sleep."

"Not right now. I'm trying to find the antidote that Dick needs, but I'm not having any luck, and it's been two hours since I started. The problem is that it's also used for overdoses of digitalis, which is more common. Keeping it in supply isn't easy."

"I am aware of that particular drug, Master Timothy," Alfred said.

"How are you aware of it?"

"It is a long story. Needless to say, do what you can. Unfortunately, the symptoms of oleander poisoning will only get worse as time goes on. Master Richard will be in for a very rough ride until he gets that antidote."

Continues with Part 5

A/N: Symptoms of Oleander Poisoning: Symptoms of oleander poisoning include diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, vision disturbances, blurred vision and low blood pressure. The nervous system is also affected, which can cause dizziness, disorientation, headaches and lethargy. In some cases the poison shows up on the skin in the form of hives and rashes. The most common symptom of oleander poisoning affects the heart. A disturbance in the heart rhythm, heart palpitations and increased heart rate all have the potentials to cause cardiac arrest.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I'm finally back on line and being able to post another part of this story. It took two weeks to get everything straighten out. One, having to get rid of a virus, and then learning that something else had happened at the same time, a power surge that luckily did not damage my computer, but did damage my monitor. Except for my keyboard and mouse, I have practically a whole new system. I know everyone has been looking forward to the next part of this story. I hope you enjoy it._

/

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 5

Two hours had gone by since Leslie checked on Dick. Bruce was pacing the floor.

'What was keeping her?' he thought.

"Ooohhh. My head's hurting. I think I've got a head ache now," Dick moaned softly. "I feel . . . so tired."

Bruce moved over to his son and checked his pulse. It felt weaker than before, slower. Was his blood pressure lower than before? Bruce also noticed he seemed more lethargic. And right where the wound was, there appeared to be a rash forming on Dick's skin. It looked like Dick's symptoms were getting worse.

Dr, Leslie Thompkins came in at that moment, a look of concern showing on her face.

"You better take Dick home," she said, "Make him comfortable."

A lump that had been forming in Bruce's throat dropped to the pit of his stomach, then his eyes narrowed and he pulled Dr. Leslie out into the hall.

"Tell me the truth."

"Bruce I'm sorry. I can't find any Digoxin Immune Fab. I've called all the hospitals. No one seems to carry any. I called the poison control center, and they won't give any up. They said they have only a limited number of vials on hand and they need that for any digitalis overdoses. I know that's just an excuse. They don't want to come to this part of the city, believing that Park Row is too dangerous. There's nothing I can do."

"How long?" Bruce asked.

"I can't be certain. Anywhere from 24 to 48 hours. His symptoms will worsen. His . . . his heart will begin to be affected."

"No, I won't allow it. There's got to be some way to get that antidote."

"Take him home Bruce. That's all we can do. I'm sorry."

Leslie walked away leaving Bruce standing in the hallway. He re-entered the exam room and stared at his stricken son. They had worked out their differences, with Bruce finally coming to terms that Dick was his own man. Now he was going to lose that son, all due to the fact that his youngest son had believed he was a thief and . . . No, there had to be a way.

Bruce gathered his son into his arms and carried him back outside. Surprisingly, no one had taken the car. There wasn't even a scratch. It seemed the parking spot in front of the Park Row Clinic was a safe zone.

Bruce once again placed his son in the back seat, buckling him up to make certain he would stay safe. Driving home Bruce kept thinking about the time when Dick came to live with him and Alfred. He was so angry then, focusing on the fact that his parents had been murdered. It seemed inconceivable just hours before he had been living every young boys' dream, to be in the circus, and flying up in the air like there was nothing to it. He had seen the boy's smiling face and saw how incredible he was at such a young age. Looking at his son now, he still had the agile body of the aerialist and much more. Even though his son had grown into a handsome man, he could still see a hint of the boy within. Right now, his son though was in deep pain, and he couldn't do anything about it.

'Damn Leslie,' he thought. 'And damn those people at the poison control. What were they thinking? My son could die and they won't help him.'

He was also faced with another dilemma, what to do with Damian. Because of him, Dick could die. Then an idea occurred to him that he had not thought of before. He had to get to the bat cave in order to check out the hypothesis forming in his mind. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

'Because you've been focusing too much on what might happen and not looking at the facts of where the oleander had come from,' Bruce thought. 'She has certainly changed her tune since she got what she really wanted. I was never her 'beloved,' apparently. She chose me for her own purpose. She could have chosen any other man, but she had to choose me. I don't believe she was ever in love with me. Did she give _him_ the oleander? If she did, she's got a lot to answer for what she's done.'

Bruce thought about the look on Damian's face when he learned who Dick was, but he didn't seem surprised about the oleander either.

With a burst of speed and adrenaline, Bruce Wayne drove as quickly as he could back to Wayne Manor. And he didn't care if he broke the speed limit. His eldest son's life hung in the balance and if he did not get the antidote, rather than celebrating his son's 23rd birthday soon, they would be planning his funeral.

Continues with Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 6

Bruce arrived back at the Manor and after parking the car out front. He carried his stricken son back up to his room and placed him on the bed. He pulled a quilt over him, but didn't want to leave his side. He sat beside him and grasped his hand, feeling the strength in that grip, fearful that he wouldn't feel that strength ever again. They always seemed to know what the other was thinking without having to speak a single word. The connection they though had been lost a couple of years before was still there having resolved itself just six months ago. It was still tenuous, but as time moved forward, Bruce and Dick had once again settled into that deep understanding that fathers and sons had with each other. For them though it was much more. Their partnership was still apparent, though different in other ways. Bruce continued to hold his son's hand feeling the love and the strength that came with that simple touch. With that grasp Bruce could tell what his son was trying to convey.

'Please don't leave,' Dick was thinking. 'I need you close. I don't want to die alone.'

'You're not going to die, not if I can help it,' Bruce replied in that touch with just a squeeze of his own hand, wanting to give his son all the strength he could. "I will find the antidote. Now, try to get some sleep. I'll send Alfred to keep you company." He gave Dick's hand one more squeeze then let it go. Alfred appeared at that moment carrying a small tray with a glass of water and couple of pills.

"I took the liberty of bringing a couple of pain relief pills to ease some of the cramping," the old butler said.

'Thanks Alfred," Dick said weakly.

Alfred handed Dick the pills and the water. Both knew the pills would not be enough. Dick didn't want to say anything, but in the last few minutes the nausea and the cramping had grown worse. His vision was blurred and even though he was lying in bed, he still felt dizzy. Disorientation was setting in and he felt as if his heart was racing.

Bruce though was aware of his son's distress and it was tearing him up inside. He had to be strong for his son if they were going to survive this. Bruce looked around the room noticing little details that others would have missed. He noticed the box on the floor and the trophies that had been placed inside. Dick's decathlon trophy where he took first place in the discus throw had fallen to the floor nearly underneath the shelf where it had gone unnoticed. Bruce reached down and picked it up and placed it back on the shelf where it belonged. Was Dick planning on moving his stuff to his apartment? Thinking about the fallen trophy, Bruce looked up to see the broken chain of what remained of the chandelier still hanging from the ceiling.

'Alfred must have cleaned up the broken chandelier,' Bruce thought. 'Dick had been lucky. He could have broken his back on the medal portions or had been pierced by the broken glass. Instead he had been cut with a sword that contained oleander on the blade. Looks like I'm going to have a long talk with Damian.'

Bruce made his way out of Dick's room to find his youngest son. It was time to face the miniature lion in his den.

"DAMIAN!" Bruce called.

"Master Damian is in your study," Alfred said as he came out of Dick's room. "Master Richard is running a fever and he is complaining of feeling nauseated."

The faint sound of vomiting came from Dick's room. He must have rushed to his private bathroom soon after Alfred left.

"I shall stay with him," Alfred said.

"I have to find that antidote and soon. I'm going to talk with Damian then I'll be going down to the bat cave."

"Will you be going out to patrol?" Alfred said coolly.

"You know I won't, not while Dick's life is in danger. After speaking with Damian, and getting my suspicions confirmed, I will be paying someone a visit, and it won't be a social call."

Bruce moved down to the study and entered. Damian was sitting in one of the chairs just staring into space. There was a look on his face that reminded Bruce of himself. He often looked like that when he was thinking about a problem that needed solving, but didn't know what his next step would be. Taking a closer look at the boy, Bruce suddenly realized how much Damian looked like him, not just from the dark hair and blue eyes, but the shape of his face. Bruce moved over to his desk and pulled out an old photograph that he kept in the bottom drawer. It was of him and his father that his mother took of them during a quiet moment together. Bruce looked at the photo and saw . . . . Great Scott! Damian didn't just look like Bruce, it was as if he was looking into a mirror, and yet. When Damian came to the Manor, now just three days ago, Bruce had checked to see if Damian was a clone, but that wasn't the case. Even so, once this ten-year-old boy reaches his full height and maturity, Bruce would certainly bet that everyone will mistake Damian for his younger self.

For the moment, Bruce had to confront this younger child-like image and find out what he knew.

"Damian," Bruce called.

Bruce observed how the younger child sat up straighter, becoming stiff and formal in his presence. 'I can certainly see he doesn't behave like me when I was his age. I was never that formal.' Bruce walked over to where Damian sat. "We need to talk."

"Father . . . how is . . . Richard?"

"You know how he is," Bruce stated, though his words implied more. 'You poisoned him. You should know what that means.'

"I do not. Please tell me."

"He's dying, and if I don't find the antidote . . ."

"Antidote? For what?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. Could Damian not know what happened? Bruce decided on another line of questioning.

"Who gave you that sword?"

"My grandfather, after I finished the first phase of my training."

"Ra's al Ghul," Bruce said. Bruce recalled his own training with the League of Shadows. After he reaching a certain level, he too received a samurai sword. He was told about the old samurai code that once a samurai sword was removed from its sheath, it had to draw blood. "Did your grandfather say anything about the blade?"

"Only that I must use a special oil to keep the blade from rusting. The oil must not be touched by human hands. He said it was sacred to the samurai."

"Did he say what the oil was made from?" Bruce asked.

"He did not."

So, Damian did not know. Bruce turned to his son and could see his eyes were steady. Though Damian was just a child, there was far more maturity there than he expected, maturity or coldness, he couldn't be certain. Bruce's next words hopefully would teach him what was within Damian's heart.

"Damian, the oil your grandfather gave you wasn't to keep the blade from rusting."

"What are you talking about Father? Grandfather told me the oil was to be used on the blade before . . ."

"Before you were to use it?" Bruce finished his words. "The reason you have been told to place that oil onto the blade is so it will get into the wound. If the one wielding the blade doesn't kill the other person, eventually, the oil will."

Damian's brow furrowed. "What are you saying, Father?"

"Do you know what oleander is?"

"No."

"It is a flowering bush. Its seeds are poisonous if ingested. The oil that you have been using on that sword was made from the seed of the oleander flower."

Damian's eyes became wide. Richard! He not only tried to kill him with his sword, but now he just learned that the very sword he had been taking care of with such care had a powerful secret. Without his knowledge, Damian had been lacing the blade with a deadly poison. Then his eyes narrowed.

'Grandfather did not trust my skills. I had been training since I was three. Some day Grandfather, I will prove you wrong.' Damian turned toward his father. "Where is Richard?"

"He is in his room," Bruce answered.

"I wish to see him."

"Not right now,"

"I must apologize, Father before . . . . Before he dies so his spirit will not be trapped in this world."

"You can do that later. Right now we have a bigger issue."

"You just told me that Richard is dying. What issue is there?"

"The antidote." Bruce said.

"Antidote? I was not aware there was one."

"Didn't your Grandfather tell you what to do in case the oil were to get on your skin or accidently ingested?"

"No. I have been careful. I only use the oil with gloves and a towel. My grandfather said it was part of the ritual of tending to the blade."

'And you have always followed that ritual without making a mistake,' Bruce added, thinking what Damian hadn't voiced. "I know of one antidote."

"If there is, then we must find it."

Bruce was taken aback by Damian's words. "You care about him that much?"

"I do not know Richard the way you do, Father," Damian said, but added in his mind, 'I saw how much he means to you. Though I wish you would react the same with me. I must learn who this Richard is and why he affects Father so much.'

Bruce thought for a moment on what he should do. The choice he was about to make would affect them all. He didn't know whether he was making a mistake, but either way, Damian would have to learn of its existence soon enough.

"Come with me," Bruce said.

Bruce left the study and didn't look back to see whether Damian was following him. The boy's footfalls on the oak wood floor confirmed that fact. He moved down the hall to the music room and entered. He went over to an old grandfather clock and pressed down on one of the finials then opened the face of the clock and moved the hands so they pointed to midnight. Bruce could sense the odd questioning look on Damian's face. It was when the clock moved outward on its base when Damian's reaction reminded him of Dick's the first time he saw the entrance to the cave. Before entering the cave, Bruce turned toward his youngest son and questioned him.

"How much do you know about Batman?"

"Mother told me that you are Batman, but she did not tell me where your lair could be found."

"That is because I never told her," Bruce said. "There is someone else I want you to meet. I want you to tell him everything you told me."

"Who is this other person?" Damian asked.

"Your other brother, Tim, and my partner Robin."

"Why?"

"Because he's going to help us find the antidote. And you're going to tell me where to find your Grandfather."

Continues with Part 7

A/N: Why did I choose Oleader? Because it grows in a desert climate. Damian Wayne came from Middle Eastern stock on his Mother's side. Oleander can be found in Algeria.


	7. Chapter 7

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 7

"Mother told me your partner was Dick Grayson and that he is known as Robin."

"Dick still is, from time to time," Bruce faced Damian, the look of pride on his face as he also turned to stare upward back toward the door and out into the hallway. His face changed for just a moment, one of sadness for a bygone time, then realization set in. "He's grown up. He goes by another name."

"Do you know where this Grayson is?"

"Yeah, I do." Bruce said as he stepped into the opening leading to a flight of stairs that went down into the dark. "He's upstairs."

"Wait . . . You mean to tell me that . . . Grayson is . . . ."

"Yes, he's Richard. But he would be the first one to ask you to call him Dick. Everyone else does, except for Alfred. He's never been able to get him to call him that."

Damian stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed. Why didn't he figure it out? Why did his Mother have to be so cryptic? That was another question he had for her.

Bruce was halfway down the steps when he realized Damian wasn't following him. "You coming?"

Damian followed in silence. His eyes became wide as the cave unfolded before him as he descended. It was far more massive than he imagined. His grandfather told him about the existence of the cave, but he never revealed to Damian how he entered the Batman's domain. It seemed his grandfather was still keeping secrets. Damian tried to calculate just how far underground the cave was below Wayne Manor. He spied a pair of poles leading upward. He surmised, 'Those must lead to Father's study, but I never found the entrance.'

As Damian descended further, he could see someone in a bright yellow cape sitting in front of a huge computer screen.

"Any luck?" Bruce approached Tim.

"I've had to widen the search to Metropolis, New York, and even Washington, DC. There are supplies out there but getting them in time, we'd be cutting it pretty close. However, there is hope."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.

"In Sri Lanka, yellow oleander is often used as a means for suicide and when treatment is given, they use activated charcoal. Activated charcoal binds cardiac glycosides in the gut lumen and promotes their elimination."

"Speak English." Damian stated.

Tim turned to the sound of the unknown voice. Though he was startled, he didn't react. Batman had often brought others to the bat cave though under some sort of sleeping gas so they didn't learn where the secret entrance was and to guard against learning their identities. Commissioner Gordon had visited the bat cave on three occasions. The first was when the first Robin, Dick Grayson had been taken by the Riddler. Tim read about the case in the extensive files. This however, was different. This kid standing next to Bruce was his biological son. Tim couldn't help notice the clear resemblance.

"The activated charcoal acts to keep the heart pacing normally while it also acts like a laxative to eliminate the poison from the system."

"How is it administered?" Bruce asked.

"It's dissolved in distilled water. The thing is, you have to give the patient several treatments over a course of three days. Either way, I would recommend giving him both."

"Why?"

"Digoxin Immune Fab is toxic in itself. It has to be regulated. It can help to relieve the symptoms of the yellow oleander poisoning within four hours, but . . . Too much and you're right back where you started or worse. It could cause cardiac arrest. Adding the charcoal increases the clearance rate of Digoxin. And once the Digoxin has done it's work, the charcoal can be used to clear the system completely. What I don't understand is how Dick got poisoned by yellow oleander in the first place."

Bruce turned his head to look at Damian. "Tell him."

Damian was reluctant to speak at first.

"You will tell him or I shall tell him myself," Bruce commanded, his brow knitting together in a scowl. He was beginning to think that Damian had been sent to reek havoc. Talia still had a lot to answer for when it came to stealing his DNA. Now he was also beginning to wonder if she didn't also have a hand in this. The tone in Bruce's unspoken words were enough. 'And if you don't do as I say, I just might return you to your Mother.'

Tim turned the chair so he was facing the ten-year-old then crossed his arms. He didn't push but waited patiently.

" . . . It was me," Damian said, quietly, his face turning away.

Tim's eyes narrowed? "How could you have gotten a hold of yellow oleander?"

"It was on my sword," Damian said, becoming defensive. Did he really have to explain this to . . . this other person who was wearing what should have been his brother's Robin costume.

Sword? What was a ten-year-old kid doing with a sword?

"Damian, do I have to tell you one more time. Tell your brother what happened."

'My brother? Damian recalled the name on one of the bedroom doors. "So, you are Timothy Wayne."

"It's Drake actually," Tim answered. "Bruce adopted me last year after my father died."

"Then why are you and Grayson not named Wayne?"

"We are, on paper, but we chose instead to honor our biological fathers by not adding the name of Wayne to our last names, unless we need to sign something."

"Tch," Damian scoffed. "Then I am still the only true son of Bruce Wayne."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Careful kid, your arrogance is showing."

"Tell . . . him," Bruce said, his lips a tight line.

"Oh all right," Damian stated, then he went on to explain about finding Dick in his room and believing him to be a thief. He also explained that the sword came from his grandfather and that he had no idea that there was poison on the blade and that the oil he had been using to keep the blade from rusting was made with oleander seed.

"Samurai swords are made from tempered steel. They don't rust kid," Tim replied. "Even I learned that from my training." Tim looked up at Bruce with a knowing stare. "You going to confront Ra's al Ghul?"

"No," Bruce said, "You are."

Tim was taken aback by Bruce's words. 'I don't understand."

"Ra's will expect the Batman to come to him. I don't intend to give him the satisfaction. He won't expect you."

"Are you sure I'm ready for this?" Tim asked.

Bruce was reminded about the last time he had to confront Ra's al Ghul when it came to Robin. Dick in his Robin uniform had been taken by surprise and had been kidnapped from his boarding house at Hudson University. A messenger had sent him a photo and a note addressed to Batman, only the envelope had been addressed to Bruce Wayne. That had been the first clue. There were others along that route that made Bruce very suspicious. There was only one man besides Alfred and the Justice League who knew his identity. That was when he and Alfred had been living at the Wayne Tower penthouse apartment. He had gone back to the cave to determine Robin's location and discovered Ra's al Ghul and his servant Ubu. It had been an elaborate set up to test him.

'Well Ra's are you still trying to test me?' Bruce thought. 'It's my turn. I intend to find out what your motives really are. You sent a child to do a man's job. A well-trained child at that, but whatever your game, you're not going to get away with it.'

Continues with Part 8

A/N: Studies were shown that active charcoal is often used in Sri Lanka as an alternative to Digoxin Immune Fab for treating yellow oleander poisoning because the conventional treatment is expensive. The treatment is repeated over several days.

Reference: Batman Tales of the Demon: Daughter of the Demon.

Some backstory on Timothy Jackson Drake. At the age of about nine years old, Tim Drake was able to deduce Robin's secret identity as Dick Grayson when Robin performed a quadruple somersault, in which Grayson was only one of the three people who could perform such a flip. Tim had met Dick Grayson at the Haly Circus when he was three years old, and saw him perform. He also witnessed the death of Dick Grayson's parents. Some years later, this deduction also allowed Drake to deduce that Grayson's guardian Bruce Wayne was Batman (A Lonely Place of Dying). Tim was 13 years old when he confronted Dick about what was happening to Bruce as Batman and how he seemed to change after Jason's death. Jason was no more than a year or two older than Tim when he died. In this story, Jason will be mentioned, but he hasn't returned to Gotham, yet. Everyone still believes he's dead.


	8. Chapter 8

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 8

"Whatever you do, don't underestimate Ra's al Ghul or his men, though the men that he chooses around him I have found aren't much of a challenge. Very few anyway," Bruce conceded. His thoughts once again turned to a time when he did fight Ra's al Ghul soon after he emerged from one of his Lazarus Pits. He had the strength of ten men, and only Talia was able to calm him. "Take this." Bruce handed Damian a few capsules.

"What is it?" Tim questioned.

"Something I've been working on. Whatever you do, don't confront him directly."

"What about Dick and the antidote?"

"You've given me what I need to know there," Bruce said. "Now I want other answers."

"All right," Tim said as he placed the domino mask on his face.

"Take the batwing. You'll find Ra's al Ghul at this location." Bruce handed Robin a card. A set or coordinates were written on the card. "Plug those into the navigation system and the batwing will do the rest."

Robin walked to the area of the bat cave that was the secret hanger for all of the aerial vehicles. There was the bat gyro, the bat plane, and the bat helicopter. Along side the bat plane was a smaller aircraft similar in shape, but smaller in size.

"I don't think I've flown this one."

"I gave Dick that small plane when he turned twelve. He earned his pilots license when he was eleven, flying the bat copter. He's flown every single vehicle in this hanger. He named that small plane the batwing."

"It's fitting. I'll take good care of it," Robin replied.

Bruce watched Robin climb into the small plane and began a thorough checklist before taking off. Tim was also an experienced pilot, having learned how to fly from his actual father. Bruce though got the strangest feeling that he just sent his third son into danger, and he wasn't going to be there to save him.

/

The batwing was a speedy aircraft, faster than any ordinary aircraft. What would normally take a couple of hours by a similar sized plane the batwing took half the time. It also had a stealth mode that only military aircraft were known to have, and a few other modes that Robin (Time Drake) decided to take advantage to learn while he flew to the coordinates that Bruce (Batman) provided.

When Robin arrived at his location, the sun was just setting. He decided to land the aircraft behind a small oasis and travel the rest of the way on foot. He kept a small GPS device in his utility belt that allowed him to plug in the coordinates so he would remain on track. The GPS also had a special locator for the plane and a call button so if he got into trouble, he could call the aircraft to his location. As he was about to leave the aircraft something beeped on the console. There was a message waiting for him. He hoped it wasn't bad news about Dick.

Robin opened the message. It had only four words. "Look inside the locker."

Robin did as the message instructed and discovered a desert robe with a hood. Perfect as a disguise. He could also hide a few other items under the robe, like his grappling hook and few batarangs just in case. He also added several smoke pellets to his utility belt. Inside another part was the antidote pills that Bruce had given him just in case. Looking around the small locker he found a canteen filled with water and some purification tablets. For now, the canteen would last him a day, but luckily, he didn't have to travel very far, perhaps only a mile or two from Ra's al Ghul's stronghold. Still, the desert at night wasn't a place you wanted to linger for very long. The desert had many creatures that he would not want to meet, one in particular whose sting could be deadly. When it came to the scorpion, size did matter, but it was the smaller ones that were the deadliest.

Robin put on robe and slung the canteen over his shoulder. He put down his clear shields in his mask then turned on the night vision apparatus. The desert had a green hue, but it was as bright as day to his eyes. Before leaving the cockpit, Robin grabbed one more thing, a small, but powerful listening device. It was something that Batman had invented. He called it his bat ear. The hearing of a bat was for more powerful than people gave them credit for. Their ears had to pick up on the echolocation sounds they emitted to locate prey. The device was designed to pick up on the faintest of sounds and amplify it even up to a mile a way. Even if he couldn't get close to Ra's al Ghul's stronghold, Robin would be able to hear what was going on, so long as he could pinpoint what it was he was searching for. He had a far better chance if he were closer to the stronghold.

Once on the desert floor, Robin moved out on a slow jog. It was steady and it gave him the means to exercise cramped muscles and to limber him up for action. The two-mile trek would not take long to traverse. At the rate he was jogging, it should take him about 45 minutes to reach the edge of the village where Ra's al Ghul's stronghold resided. During the jog, his mind drifted back to Dick and what he was going through. He hadn't had the opportunity to see for himself just how Dick was doing, but the dark circles under Bruce's eyes were a tell tale sign of the stress he must have been feeling. He could also see that his eyes were red rimmed, another sign that Bruce had fought the emotional turmoil that he felt. Dick was Bruce's first son, and Tim accepted that. He knew Bruce loved Dick deeply, and all Tim wanted to do was help to keep the light of Bruce's life from going out.

During the two-mile job, Tim also thought about his own life and his place in the Wayne home. For the first two years of his Robin career, Tim had both his parents to help him through his daily life outside the mask. When his mother Janet died unexpectedly, it had been him and his father Jack for a short time. His father, however, was in a small plane crash and at first was believed to be dead. He was later located in a rural hospital where he had been crippled. Then last year he lost his father when a villain by the name of Captain Boomerang killed him, but not before his father mortally wounded the villain in which soon after Captain Boomerang succumbed to his wounds. Soon after, Bruce offered Tim a home and a chance for a new family. Like Dick, Bruce offered to adopt him, giving Tim the option of keeping his own name. Tim had been honored, and accepted. Life with Bruce was far different than he expected. Bruce and Tim's relationship wasn't as close as Bruce was with Dick, but they were at least friends and partners. They knew what to expect from one another, and that was enough for them.

Tim slowed his pace as he approached the village. He was surprised at how large the village was and at the wall that surrounded it. It looked like something out of a movie set for the Arabian Nights than an actual place where people lived. The sun baked clay walls were a testimonial to another time. They were designed to keep out raiders, not a precocious and determined 17-year-old with a grappling hook and batarangs that could be used as peons to climb the wall, which is exactly what Robin did. Once on top of the wall, he got the lay of the land. He could see the interconnected highway that made up the rooftops. There were buildings stacked upon other buildings. And over the centuries the interwoven structure made it appear like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. The grandest site of all was the tall structure that stood in the center. It looked like a mesa had been dropped into the middle of the village or that the village had somehow grown up around the structure, as if the structure was their cathedral and they were its parishioners.

Robin checked his GPS one more time and realized that was where he needed to go. Then he remembered Dick telling him about a time when he had been kidnapped. He told Tim about the time he escaped from some structure high above a village in the desert. He didn't have anything like a bat rope or a grappling hook, or even batarangs to help him climb down. He just used whatever toe holes he could find and his bare hands.

"Weren't you scared?" Tim asked.

"I didn't think anything of at the time," Dick had said. "If I had, I might have been terrified, but you can't keep us circus types down. I just figured it was the only way I could escape and I went ahead and did it."

Robin nearly choked up on the memory then steeled himself inside.

'Well, I'll have a story to tell Dick when I get back, but mine will be about having to not only ascend that monstrosity, but I'm going to have to climb down as well.'

Robin swallowed a lump in his throat. He really wasn't that big on heights. He relied heavily on his grappling hook to get him up to the top of buildings than doing an ascent with a batarang tied to a rope the way Dick and Bruce had done in the past. Dick had also told him how they would use what Batman called a Batzooka for taller buildings. That had been retired once the grappling hooks were put into use. It was much quicker and he didn't have to suffer through the fear so much.

Robin paused once more to take in the site before he made his way to the center of the village.

'Well Ra's, I hope you're home. I'd hate to come all this way to find you're not. Looks like I'll be paying you a visit real soon."

Continues with Part 9


	9. Chapter 9

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 9

Robin reached the side of the mesa and found that at least on this side, the wall was pretty shear. It didn't look like there were many places where someone could climb down.

'And Dick climbed down this in the dark without night vision?' Robin thought. 'That was pretty impressive, foolhardy, but impressive.'

When it came to the acrobatics, compared to Dick, the current Robin sometimes felt clumsy and inadequate. It was obvious that Dick was the better athlete when it came to that. When it came to who was the better detective, Tim had a slight lead over Dick. Both were good, but Tim was a little quicker on the draw at picking up subtle clues that might be missed. Given a little more time, Dick would also pick up on the clues as well. Dick had a heads up on old fashion detective work out in the field when it came to tracking a foe. Tim had book smarts and being able to research anything on the computer. Between the two, they were a formidable pair, if they ever got to work together. For now, Tim was Bruce's Robin and Dick worked alone as Nightwing, only working with Batman on occasion, but when they did, it was as if they had never stopped. It was like they could read each other's minds. Tim envied that relationship, sometimes, but most of the time he was in awe of it. Dick Grayson after all, had been the original Robin, and in his mind sometimes, Tim just didn't quite measure up. When Tim was feeling low and thinking about how he compared to Dick, Bruce was the first to point out even though he was a different Robin, it didn't matter. For now, he was the boy wonder, and that was all he needed to care about.

"You didn't want me as a partner at first," Tim said once to Bruce.

"I was wrong," Bruce replied. "Remember, it was you who pointed out to me that Batman and Robin are a symbol. And you cannot kill a symbol. Even if you or I were to die, someone will take our place when there is a need."

"Are you sure of that?"

"As sure as I am that this bat cave will be here long after we are gone."

Robin looked up at the mesa and studied its surface. It looked shear, but he could see pockets of indentations where hand and footholds could be found. They were small and narrow and maybe adequate, but Tim wasn't certain that his rock climbing skills were good enough to climb such a surface. Pulling out his grappling hook, he looked up to the structure that had been built into the mesa and tried to find the most likely area to send his hook flying up into the space above.. He wanted to be certain that his grappling hook grabbed onto something before sending it upward. It would be an awkward situation if he sent the hook up and it came right back down hitting him or someone in the street below.

Finding his spot, Robin sent the grappling hook upward. It found a likely spot and hooked on. Robin pulled it tight to make certain it was secure then retracted the line. He shot upward and was soon dangling under the supports for a balcony. Carefully bracing himself, Robin placed the bat ear into his own ear and then pressed a small button that was along the side. He suddenly heard voices, both a man and a woman's and by their words he determined that the male voice was the very person he came to investigate.

"Father, you are home."

"Where is my grandson?" Ra's al Ghul asked.

"I had sent him to his father," the woman stated.

"Very good. Did he take the sword?"

"Yes."

"If all goes well, the adopted sons of Bruce Wayne will be no more, especially Richard Grayson. I should have known years ago he would not turn against his guardian, and when he escaped, I should have sent more than just a few men after him."

"What about the other boy?"

"Our secret weapon should take care of him."

"What if he kills my son?"

"Do not worry my daughter, he has been instructed not to."

"I do not wish Batman to be harmed."

"You still have a misguided love for the man?"

"He is the only man who is my equal."

"The Detective is a very interesting man, and your equal, I will grant you that, but he will never become a worthy successor. I am sorry Talia, but you know it must be done. He will only thwart what I have planned. Either you are with me in this or you will have to pay the consequences. I will have to deny you your time in the pit."

"You would deny me a chance to live again?" Talia stated. "Then I would rather die then see the Batman harmed."

"What about your son? I could deny him the use of the pit when it is his time."

"He knows nothing about the pit," Talia stated. "Father, what if something should happen before Damian has a chance to use the sword? What if he were to touch the oil?"

"He has been instructed so he does not," Ra's al Ghul replied.

"But what if he does. He is but a child and children don't always remember to follow instructions correctly. After all, you taught me, and I do remember what it was like when I made mistakes . . ."

" . . . I am sorry for the harshness of those days. It was necessary."

"I know father, but Damian . . . though he has been instructed . . . he . . . he has never taken a life. What if he should accidently cut himself."

"You think I should send him the antidote?"

"Please, Father,' Talia pleaded. "If he is to become the heir of the Wayne fortune, he must survive."

"Yes, you are right daughter. The antidote is in the lab, four floors below. You know where to go. Send some by special messenger."

"Thank you, Father."

What luck, not only did he find out what Ra's al Ghul's plans were, he also discovered they had the antidote.

'I've got to get it for Dick," Robin stated. Swinging out on his rope, Robin was able to use his momentum to swing onto the balcony. He shook loose his grappling hook and replaced it into his belt. He kept the hood up on the robe that he was wearing just in case he was spotted. Even so, it was better if he knew where he was going. He pulled out his GPS and typed in the coordinates and called up a map. A detailed layout of Ra's al Ghul's stronghold came up on the small screen.

'He said that the lab was four floors below. He must mean that the mesa has several levels of tunnels, like the bat cave. Now to find the entrance.'

Robin moved into the room and discovered it was a bedroom with a large four-poster bed. He remembered Dick describing the room he had been in during his capture. Could this be that very room? It was unlikely, but it would be a lucky coincidence if it were the same. It would mean that Robin found where Dick had been imprisoned and where he escaped from, which was quite fortuitous. Robin remembered that Dick said he broke the posts on the headboard of the bed. Robin took a moment to examine the posts. With his shields on his mask in place, he switched them over to view detailed information. He examined the posts on the headboard and found minute areas where someone had tried to repair them and then tried to cover up the repair.

'Well, I'll be. This is the same room,' Robin thought. He decided to make a recording for Batman's records and to let him know if he ever needed an entrance into Ra's al Ghul's home, this was the likely safe spot to come in. Finished with that task, and realizing he was running out of time, Robin crossed to the exit of the bedroom and made his way out into the hall.

'Now to find my way to the lab,' he thought. 'Bruce didn't tell me to get the antidote, but since I'm here, I may as well see what I can do to acquire it.'

Robin moved into the hallway and tried to find his way to a stairwell that would lead him to the lower levels. He turned a corner and came suddenly face to face with a guard.

Who are you? The guard spoke in Arabic.

I was sent to fetch something for Lady Talia, but I am afraid I took a wrong turn.

Luckily Tim was versed in several languages since his father had been a diplomat and in his younger days before he learned about Batman and Robin's identities, he often would take trips to foreign countries his parents. It was important that you knew the language. Tim was versed in several Middle Eastern languages and even Mandarin.

You are knew here, the man was starting to get suspicious.

Yes. Can you tell me where the library is? Robin asked.

You must return and go down the hall to the elevator . . .

Robin suddenly punched the man in the jaw sending him into dreamland. He grabbed the man's gun and flung it over his shoulder. He also found a set of keys, one of them looked suspiciously like one that was used in an elevator. His father carried such a key when he had to enter a secure suite. Robin then place the guard up against the wall and made it look like he fell asleep. His next stop was the lab. He just hoped there weren't any more guards between him and his destination. Dick needed that antidote, and time was running out.

Continues With Part 10

A/N: Indicates that a different language is being spoken, in this case Arabic.

Reference to Missing, the old Batman TV series, Forgot to mention Tim Drake's background from various sources in Part 8.


	10. Chapter 10

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 10

Bruce looked over the places that Tim found that had supplies of Digoxin Immune Fab. There were several in Metropolis, some in Washington, DC, and several in New York. And all of them were reserved for digitalis over doses.

"Please, I need your help. My son needs Digoxin Immune Fab."

"Did he take an overdose of digitalis?"

"No, he was poisoned by yellow oleander," Bruce stated.

"That is a highly poisonous plant. How did he get into yellow oleander? Did he ingest it?"

"Not exactly," Bruce stated.

"Can you tell me?

"He . . . got a cut . . ."

"Sir, you must give us a reasonable explanation."

"But my son needs just one vial, that is all," Bruce explained.

"You will need to take him to the Metropolis hospital . . ."

"I'm not in Metropolis. I'm outside of Gotham City."

"Gotham City? Have you tried local sources?"

Bruce didn't want to have to take Dick to a separate hospital and try to explain. He already tried taking him to Leslie's clinic and she wasn't able to help him. "I've tried, but no one was able to help him."

"I'm sorry, we can't give you any. We're not allowed to send potential toxic and controlled substances over state lines."

"Without it, my son will die probably within 24-36 hours."

"There is nothing we can do. Our hands are tied."

It was that way with every phone call that he made. There was just no getting around it. When he told them what poison his son had in his system, they all wanted to know how it happened. Bruce had been somewhat evasive, skirting on the truth, but not actually telling it completely. How could he tell them that his youngest son tried to kill his oldest with a sword laced with yellow oleander nectar. It even sounded farfetched to him. And when he couldn't explain it to their satisfaction, the person on the other line flat out refused to even consider his proposal. Taking Dick to Algeria was out of the question. The trip would be too much for his system as it stood. The rash was slowly spreading from the entry site, and the pain he was experiencing had increased since he came back from Leslie's clinic. Twice Dick raced to his private bathroom to vomit up bile. He also was suffering from diarrhea and he hadn't even eaten since yesterday. His headache was also getting worse and the best thing he could do was keep the drapes closed and the lights turned off to minimize the pain he was feeling from the light.

Bruce ached for his son. Both had been poisoned before in their line of work, but the universal antidote pills they kept in their utility belts usually did the trick. This time, he feared that Dick wasn't going to make it.

"Father?"

"What is it Damian?"

"I . . . I wish there was something I could do," Damian said, his head hanging down.

Bruce turned to his youngest son. In the last few hours, Damian had been very subdued. Though Talia had told Bruce that Damian's training had been extensive, the one thing she did not make clear was whether Damian had indeed killed. During Bruce's time with the League of Shadows, that had been part of the training to become an assassin, to take the life of someone without regard or remorse. It would seem with the way Damian was behaving, he had not. And if Dick were to die, he would be the first person that Damian would have killed. He did not know how that would affect the boy. He suspected it would harm him in some way.

"There is nothing we can do right now," Bruce said.

"I . . . I'm sorry Father," Damian's words went down to a whisper. "I do not want Grayson to die."

"It's all right Damian, you can call him Dick. He is your brother."

"I do not feel worthy," Damian stated.

"Have you gone to see him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You did not want me to earlier," Damian stated. "And I fear he would not want to see me."

"Well, I already told him that you did not know there was poison on the blade," Bruce said. "And last time I saw him, he was asking for you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I think you should see him."

"Can you come with me?" Damian asked.

"Of course."

Since there wasn't much more he could do to persuade someone to send him a vial of Digoxin Immune Fab, Bruce took his youngest by the hand and lead him out of the cave and back into the Manor. They headed up the stairs to the second floor and toward Dick's room. Bruce knocked softly on the door. The door opened to reveal Alfred standing in the darkened room.

Bruce could see that Alfred was doing his best to hold in his emotions. Despite the stiff upper lip that the old butler tried to convey Bruce could see that Alfred's eyes were red rimmed from crying.

'He must have sat there in the dark and let the tears fall so no one would see him,' Bruce thought. "How is he Alfred?"

"The same," Alfred replied. "I just gave him another pain relief pill, but I do not think they are doing any good. Any luck on the antidote?"

Bruce shook his head so as not to voice the words, but both knew that Dick would be aware that something wasn't right. Hiding things from his eldest son had been difficult, even when he came to live at the Manor. It was as if Dick had a sense for reaching into another person's thoughts and knew when you weren't telling the truth. 'At least that's what it felt like toward me.' Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat. 'I . . . I cannot let him see that . . . I must not lose hope. There has to be a way to stop the progression of this poison.'

"Father?"

"Damn, even Damian is beginning to feel my distress.' Bruce gave Damian a slight nudge to have him enter the room first.

Alfred gave Bruce a frown at seeing the boy. "Are you sure that is wise?"

"Dick asked for him earlier," Bruce said. "That was soon after I went to see Tim and sent him on an errand. I looked in on Dick briefly and he was calling for the kid. Then he went into the bathroom and . . . I did not want to disturb him so I told him I was going to do some research on finding the antidote."

"You have been gone for more than an hour," Alfred pointed out.

"I made several phone calls. Damian and I will relieve you."

"Please, be careful what you say to him Master Damian. He is in a very fragile state."

Damian nodded his acknowledgement to the old butler. Both Bruce and Damian moved into Dick's room and went to his bedside. Damian was shocked at what he saw. In the gloom of the room, he saw that Dick was curled up nearly into a ball, his forehead beaded with sweat and his eyes screwed shut from the pain. He clutched onto the edge of the bed as if he was trying to steady himself and yet, Damian observed that Dick was muttering to himself as if confused and disoriented.

'Did I cause this?' Damian reached up and placed a hand on the pulse point on Dick's neck. "Father, his pulse is weak."

Bruce was alarmed by Damian's words. "He's lost a lot of fluids and the poison . . . ." Bruce didn't want to voice what he knew. He was afraid that the poison was starting to affect Dick's heart.

"Did not Drake say that active charcoal could be used as an alternative?"

"Yes, but the Digoxin Immune Fab works faster. The active charcoal must be given in several doses and over a period of three days."

"It is better than none," Damian stated. "Please Father, we cannot just do nothing."

'I thought I was doing something, trying to find the antidote,' Bruce thought, but Damian's words hit home more than he knew. "You're right. Go down to the cave in the lab. There should be some active charcoal in one of the cabinets. Bring it here along with a pitcher of water. We better start him on this and see if he responds." Bruce said. 'I just hope Tim will be back with some news soon.'

/

While Bruce and Damian were realizing that Dick was getting weaker and needed something to help him, Robin was still trying to make his way through Ra's al Ghul's home. Before leaving the guard Robin placed a small pill in the guard's mouth. It was one of several sleeping pills that he always carried in his utility belt. The pill would guarantee that the guard would not wake for several hours. Robin raced to the elevator in the direction that the guard had pointed. He didn't meet anyone else, but that didn't mean they weren't around. Examining the area around the elevator, he found a stairwell leading to other levels. There was one level above and several levels below. Rather than take the elevator, even though he had a key, Robin didn't want to alert anyone that he was coming. Looking around, he found a small solarium with various plants. He left the keys there just in case the pill wore off and the guard woke up and discovered his keys were gone. Even so, once the guard did wake, he might report that there had been an intruder. Robin hoped he would be long gone by then.

Continues with Part 11


	11. Chapter 11

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 11

Robin let himself down the shaft of the stairwell with his grappling hook going at a steady pace so as not to suddenly draw attention. The stairwell looked like it had been carved out of the rock by hand. Robin couldn't contemplate the age of the mesa and its hidden shafts and tunnels without losing too much time. As he passed the second level and was approaching the third, he could hear voices coming from a room off the stairwell. And one of those voices was Talia al Ghul.

'I thought she went down the lab to retrieve the antidote to send to Damian?'

Even so, if she had, the antidote would not reach Dick in time. And her instructions were to send it to Damian, not Dick. She didn't even know that Dick had been poisoned. 'And even if she didn't the demon's daughter probably wouldn't care,' Robin thought. He heard stories from both Dick and Bruce about Talia and her father, Ra's al Ghul, stories that left Bruce suspicious of Talia's intentions. Dick told Robin about the time he had been kidnapped and about another time when he and Catwoman were also taken prisoner by Ra's al Ghul's men and forced to work in a mine. They were digging for something, something that Dick and Bruce later learned was the source of Ra's al Ghul's apparent immortality, a Lazarus Pit. It became apparent that though Talia loved Bruce, she loved her father more and wanted to stay young forever.

'So what is she doing on the third level?' Robin couldn't resist finding out who the person was that Talia was talking to. He stopped just above the third level and turned on his bat ear to listen.

"The retraining of your body is almost complete."

"I can't wait to return to surprise him. I just hope he will do what is necessary to avenge what happened."

Robin heard the rustle of clothing.

"Does it matter? You are alive because of my father. You can do whatever you wish. You could even become his successor."

"What about . . ."

"Shhh . . . He does not matter. He is no longer worthy."

"You sent him his son . . . I was his . . ."

"You know of Damian?" Talia's words interrupted the other and sounded surprised.

"You didn't bother to make it a secret," the other said.

"Enough, you and Damian will meet some day, but not after you do what you must."

"Prove that his methods don't work and becoming the most feared crime lord in Gotham City."

"Return to your practice," Talia stated. "I must retrieve something for my father."

'She's heading to the lab. Got to get there before her.' Robin let the grappling hook loose and he dropped like a stone to the fourth level. He swung over to the railing and landed on the stairs. He left his line where it was so he could return the way that he came. He quickly found a spot to hide and to watch when Talia came into the lab, hoping to discover where the Digoxin Immune Fab was being kept. He didn't have to wait long. Robin watched as Talia went to a metal cabinet and opened it. It wasn't locked. She pulled out a vial containing a white powder. From where Robin was hiding he could clearly see the label, but barely read it. It had to be the antidote. Once Talia had the vial and left the room, Robin moved across the floor as silently as he could. He opened the cabinet and looked at the vials. There were several. He grabbed one and read the label. After searching for a few moments, he found one other vial of Digoxin Immune Fab. He placed it in the pouch underneath his cloak and quickly left the lab.

Robin returned to the stairwell and grabbing the rope, he retracted his line, sending him back up to the level that he had been originally. Suddenly the sound of an alarm was going off.

'They must have discovered I was in the lab. I must have left the cabinet open. Stupid, Tim.'

Robin raced back toward the room that he entered and realized the guard was gone. 'That pill should have left him sleeping like a baby.'

A shot rang out and nearly missed his head.

'This bird had better make tracks,'

Robin raced into the room only to discover there were two more men waiting at the balcony.

"Sorry fellas but I can't stay," Robin said and he bowled into the two men, knocking them off their feet as they charged him. Before they could recover Robin struck both men in the jaw, felling them where they stood. Robin went out onto the balcony and realized he couldn't use his grappling hook. The chance of them cutting the rope and causing him to fall was just too great.

'I've got to stall for time,' he thought. "You up for more?"

Robin said as two more men came charging into the room. Robin looked up to see a very large ornate iron worked chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Taking a running start he flipped over the men's heads then bounded on the bed launching himself in the air.

'I hope this works. Dick I hope all those trapeze lessons you were teaching me paid off.'

Robin reached up and grabbed the circular framework of the large fixture and swung up into its structure. Climbing about the base to where he could reach the chain, Robin pulled out the small laser torch in his utility belt and cut through the chain just below where he had been hanging. The large structure came crashing down trapping the two men. Robin leapt down once again on the bed and headed out to the balcony. Securing his grappling hook he leapt out into space and swiftly descended to the village below. Leaving his grappling hook behind, Robin raced across the rooftops and into the night. More shots whizzed by him as he continued to race across the rooftops. Pressing a button on his GPS, Robin swiftly dodged in and out of the shadows to keep from being seen. He knew his ride would be here as soon as he reached the outer wall. As he drew closer, Robin shed the robe he had been wearing to give him more mobility. Sure enough the small aircraft hovered along the side of the wall. Robin pressed another button and the canopy covering the cockpit rolled back. Launching himself into space, Robin flipped and landed right in the pilot's seat. He pressed a button and the plane turned and soared upward and away from Ra's al Ghul's stronghold.

'Boy will Bruce be incensed when he learns that Talia betrayed him with some other guy,' Robin mused then frowned, remembering Ra's al Ghul's words. It would seem the leader of the League of Shadows had not only designs on Bruce Wayne's fortune, but he intends to kill all of them. Robin removed the vial of Digoxin Immune Fab.

'Bruce isn't expecting this,' Robin said as he held up the vial. Plugging the coordinates into the navigations system that would lead back to the bat cave, Robin put the plane in stealth mode as well as setting the autopilot. 'Now I can do some research and see just how this is supposed to help Dick.'

Robin opened a small computer console built into the co-pilot's station. He typed in a password linking him to the bat cave and pulled up what he needed to know. Once he returned to the bat cave, Robin would be able to perform the necessary procedure to save his brother's life. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

Continues with Part 12


	12. Chapter 12

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 12

It would still take Robin several hours to return from Ra's al Ghul's stronghold. In the mean time, each moment that went by meant that it brought Dick Grayson closer to death. His mind became confused, not knowing where he was or who was around him. At one time, Dick thought he was back at the circus with his parents.

"I'm coming Mom," Dick mumbled. "Dad can we go get gelato after the show?"

"Father, what is Grayson talking about?"

"You know Dick was adopted," Bruce stated.

"Yes," Damian answered.

"But you do not know how he came to live at the Manor."

Bruce was about to explain to Damian, Dick's origin when the young flier cried out. "Bruce, it hurts so much, make it stop."

Bruce placed his hand on the young man's forehead then placed his hand on Dick's chest. "His heart is racing faster than it should. We've got to get him down to the cave."

Suddenly, Dick's eyes rolled up into his head, his breathing becoming erratic.

"NO!" Bruce picked up his son and raced down the stairs. "ALFRED!"

Alfred was there, moving the hands of the grandfather clock into position while Bruce held Dick Grayson in his arms. Damian slowly followed them down, caught in his own thoughts.

'Grandfather, I cannot do this,' he thought. 'You sent me to kill my Father, telling me the man was weak. Compassion is a weakness you said. And yet, I have seen my Father fighting for the life of a man whom I do not know, a man he says is my brother. Perhaps it is best that I learn what it means to be a Wayne. I can always kill him later Grandfather, if your words turn out to be true.'

He watched as his father lay Dick on a diagnostic bed and hooked him up to a heart monitor. He placed an oxygen mask on his face.

"How much time . . ." Alfred asked as he watched, not wanting to fully voice what he knew otherwise it might come true. His heart was aching for Dick, but mostly his heart was aching for Bruce. He didn't want him to suffer another loss, though it had been a long time since his parents' deaths, he still felt it keenly each time he went after a murderer. Now he was facing the reality that his own biological son would . . . 'NO! I must not think of those things. If Master Richard dies, it will destroy Master Bruce. Jason's death was bad enough, but the death of Master Richard would cause pain so great I fear he will not survive it, and to have happened by the hand of his own son . . .'

The sound of the hanger opening up, Alfred went to investigate. "Master Timothy, has returned."

Robin dashed from the hangar and entered the main bat cave. Spying Alfred he came running up to him.

"Where's Bruce? Still up in the Manor with Dick?"

"He has moved Master Richard to the medical bay," Alfred replied.

"Good."

Robin entered the medical bay to see that Dick had been hooked up to a heart monitor. He could see that his heart's rhythm wasn't as regular as it should be, plus it was weak. It showed that Dick's heart was beating half the normal beats than it should. Dick was in the final process of dying.

'I don't have much time,' Robin moved over to where the medical supplies were stored and started pulling out what he needed. He grabbed a bottle of distilled water and measuring out the powder of Digoxin Immune Fab, he placed it in another container then slowly added the distilled water to get the powder to dissolve.

"What is that?" Damian asked as he observed what Robin was doing.

"The antidote," he said. "Pull out an IV needle and saline bag."

Damian did as Robin instructed despite the fact that he wasn't familiar with the medical bay's set up. Seeing what Master Timothy was about to do, Alfred stepped in and took the saline bag and attacked the IV line and needle.

"Allow me," Alfred said and he moved over to where Dick lay and began hooking up the IV drip and inserting the needle into a vein into Dick's hand. Once the IV was hooked up Robin moved in with the antidote, taking a syringe and inserting it into the line mixing it into the saline solution. "We have to keep adding it into the IV until all of it is inserted."

"How long until he should respond?"

"He should begin to respond I would think pretty quickly. It's going to take about four hours for the poison to be cleared from his system," Robin stated.

Within the first half hour, Dick's symptoms started showing improvement. He no longer looked confused or disoriented, and the rash around the wound was starting to fade. His pain levels were also improving. His heart rate also evened out and became stronger.

"We should start him on the activated charcoal as soon as the Digoxin has been able to clear the poison from his system," Robin said. "Bruce, I need to talk to you, alone."

Both moved to a quiet corner, leaving Damian and Alfred to watch Dick. Robin explained to Bruce what he heard.

"And you believe Damian was sent here to . . ."

"It's not what I believe Bruce, it's what I heard. Ra's al Ghul wants us all dead. He's even training another assassin."

"Did you get a chance to see this assassin?"

"No, I didn't dare risk it. I had to get the antidote for Dick. As soon as I got that, I was discovered and they tried to stop me."

"But you are certain about Damian?"

"Yes."

"Bruce, be careful. Talia said Damian never killed before, but . . .."

"That's what she said?" Bruce was surprised at that.

". . . I got the feeling that Ra's may have lied to his own daughter."

Bruce nodded as he looked over toward Damian. 'And I can see why. Damian knew how to handle that sword. He did come close to killing Dick, but he didn't know who Dick was at the time. Looks like I'm going to have to talk to Damian one more time.' Bruce placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Keep this to yourself. We'll do what we can to prepare. We may have to keep an eye on Damian, watch him closely to see if he makes any move. I'll at least have a talk with him. See what he knows and what he's been ordered to do. Better get changed you're exhausted. Let's just be glad Commissioner Gordon hasn't summoned Batman and Robin during this ordeal."

Alfred approached Bruce and Robin, "Master Richard is asking for you. Master Damian is hiding in the shadows. I suspect he doesn't want Master Richard to know that he is present."

"We'll be right there Alfred," Bruce replied. "Good work Tim."

Tim nodded, removed his domino mask, and headed for the locker room and the showers. His eyes moved over to where Damian was standing, trying to hide, as if waiting to pounce, but that was a misnomer on his part. Damian's posture seemed different, less sure of himself, and he seemed to be struggling with a decision that only someone twice or even three times his age should have to decide. Tim could also see in Damian's eyes a reluctance that had not been there before. If Damian had been sent to kill Bruce and Dick, he would have done so by now. Something had changed. For now, Tim wasn't going to worry about it. Right now, he was long overdue on sleep, and he was glad that Dick was on the mend. He didn't want to admit it, but he was still in awe of the first Robin, and the relationship Bruce and Dick had.

Tim paused for one more moment to see Bruce take Dick's hand in his giving it a squeeze. The look on Bruce's face was one of deep relief and love, love for a young man whom Bruce helped raise. Tim also observed that they would have their moments when they would butt heads, but they would come together once again, especially when they needed each other. Tim sometimes envied that relationship. His father had not been that demonstrative.

'. . . Except after he had been crippled,' Tim thought. 'I guess he was trying to make up for lost time.' It wasn't enough. 'I'm still grateful for Bruce taking me in. We may never fully be father and son, but I'm glad we're at least friends.'

Tim stepped into the locker room, his thoughts returning to the unknown assassin. He didn't take the time to learn who that person was. He was regretting it. Plus, something that the assassin said bothered him. The assassin apparently was from Gotham City and had a connection to Bruce. If only he had learned more. 'Well, no matter, we'll probably be hearing about him soon enough.'

Continues with Part 13

A/N: I forgot to add into part 11 about the comic series that involved Robin, Catwoman, Talia, and Ra's al Ghul. It was called The Lazarus Affair. It was over a series of four or five comics. I only have three of them, Fallout, China Syndrome, and Infinity Island (written in 1981). I don't know why I didn't pick up the last ones. I probably just forgot at that time.

My take on Damian is this. Damian arrived at Wayne Manor not to learn about his Father, Bruce, but to kill him, not by Talia's orders, but by Ra's al Ghul's his grandfather. He was supposed to kill his father the first day, but Bruce wasn't there for very long and Damian couldn't get the opportunity. He was also ordered to kill Dick Grayson, which he nearly did believing at first that Dick was a thief. Damian hasn't become Robin yet and won't for some time.

Tim is Robin, and will remain Robin for now.

Jason is believed to be dead.


	13. Chapter 13

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 13

Bruce sat his youngest son down in the study. Rather then deal with him down in the cave, he thought it best to talk with him in a more relaxed setting. Though he hated to leave Dick at this crucial time, he needed to get to the bottom of what was going on and what he learned from Tim.

"You are going to tell me the truth," Bruce stated, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Your grandfather sent you here to kill me, did he not?"

Damian looked at his father, his eyes narrowing into a scowl, similar to his father's. "How do you know this?"

"Never mind how I know, answer the question."

Damian turned his head away, not wanting his father to see the struggle he was feeling. "Yes."

"Why?" Bruce asked.

"He perceives you as a threat, as well as Grayson."

"Does your mother feel the same way?"

"I do not know. I have not been able to talk with her."

So, the boy didn't know that Talia did not want him harmed and yet her father had also threatened her if she did not go along with him.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"You can kill me. I have failed."

"That is not my way, Damian," Bruce said. "I fight crime, I do not commit it. It is obvious you have been trained. Have you killed?"

Damian wasn't sure if he should lie or fudge the truth. He had been told that the Batman did not like killing, and that it was a weakness that had to be overcome. His grandfather had told him that dying was a part of life, and that killing also was a part of that. A stronger predator kills a weaker opponent and their prey. So it was with the League of Shadows. To become worthy of his Grandfather's respect, he had to kill. It was justice to its extreme, without the need for a trial. A man who committed a crime was guilty and therefore had to die for his crime. There was no other option in their world. His father also told him that he must not tell his mother.

"Why must my Mother not know?" Damian had asked Ra's al Ghul.

"Her heart was once with our cause, but now, she wavers. She loves another who would see our organization brought down. That must not happen. I must know that you are loyal."

So, to show his loyalty Damian did kill . . . but he did not like it. Seeing the blood and how it made him feel caused him to nearly vomit from the sight. That night, he had the worse nightmare he had in all of his young life. He dreamed of a shadowy figure who's disappointment had been palpable. The shadow had turned into a huge bat, then the bat changed and turned into a man wearing the costume of a bat, his eyes looking out from his mask with a sadness that broke Damian's heart.

"Have you killed?" Bruce asked Damian, again.

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes," he said his voice down to a whisper. 'I did not like it."

Damian turned his face away. He did not want to see the disappointment in his father's face.

"Are you going to kill me?" Bruce asked.

"I . . . I . . . do not wish to," Damian said.

"Why?"

"After seeing the kind of man that you are, I do not believe what my Grandfather said about you."

"And what was that?" Bruce asked.

"That you are weak because you are compassionate."

"Compassion is not weak, Damian. It is one of our greatest strengths. It helps galvanize us to do what is right. Without compassion, what we do would be nothing short of revenge."

"Will you send me back to my Grandfather?" For the first time, fear showed in the boy's face.

"Not if you do not wish to go."

Relief washed over Damian as his father's words sank in.

"But you are not off the hook. You did try to kill your brother . . ."

"Grayson is not my brother," Damian argued.

"I will not argue with you about what makes a family. For now, you are in trouble. You are going to apologize to Dick when he is ready to hear it. And you are going to give up your weapon along with the oil that came with it. I will decide later what other appropriate punishment will be suitable."

"Yes, Father."

Damian was about to leave when Bruce moved to block his path.

"I appreciate that you told me the truth," Bruce said. "I expect that of all my sons."

"Father, one question."

"What is it Damian?"

"Who is Jason?"

Bruce remained silent at first. The topic of Jason was still painful to talk about. It had been almost six years since his death. Jason had been his greatest failure. If only he had gotten there in time, things would be different.

'Jason would be turning 19 if he had lived,' Bruce thought.

Then again, he probably would not have met Tim. Tim was 13 when he became involved and revealed the fact that he knew the identities of Batman and Robin, and that Batman needed a Robin to remind him that he was there to protect the innocent as well as fight crime. Tim reminded Bruce of Dick in some ways, but a little more serious. As for Damian, he didn't know if things would have happened the same way, whether Damian would have entered his life. He did know one thing, and he was deeply relieved for it. He knew that if Dick had died, he would not have been able to face that. At one time, Dick had been his world. He was grateful for Tim for finding the antidote that saved his life. Now he would have to learn to be Damian's world as well. Damian was a different child, and came from a different world. It wasn't going to be easy.

"We'll have to talk about Jason another time. I think it's time we check on Dick."

"Okay Father."

Continues with Part 14


	14. Chapter 14

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 14

Damian went into his room and grabbed the oil that he used to clean the blade. His grandfather had said that the oil was to be used each time he prepared to use the sword. It was part of the ritual training of a samurai. He never questioned his grandfather, until now. Learning that the oil had been laced with oleander nectar didn't seem right to him. The training to become an assassin in the League of Shadows though they were supposed to be secretive, it felt somewhat dishonest to kill an enemy with subterfuge. Poison darts were one thing. They were expected, but having read about the samurai, at least what information that was available to him, which wasn't much, they felt like an honorable people. Honor seemed to be their way of life and code. Applying poison laced oil on a blade seemed dishonest, and not honorable at all. And if a samurai was to commit an act that dishonors that code, he was to commit ritual suicide. Damian pulled out the tanto, the shorter sword often worn with the katana.

He had not told his father about this blade only about the katana, the blade used in battle. The katana was down to the bat cave. This blade on the other hand, if he were to give this one up, he might as well commit ritual suicide. He knew how to do it, but did he dare. If his father had sent him back to his grandfather, Ra's al Ghul, weaponless and disgraced, he probably would expect him to commit suicide or he would simply chop off his head, just as Damian had done to the man he had to kill.

Damian re-examined his feelings after talking with his father. He didn't fear his grandfather, but he feared what he would do. Damian sat on the bed with the short sword in his hands, trying to decide what to do.

The clattering of a tray was heard as it fell to the floor.

"MASTER DAMIAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Alfred rushed over and grabbed the small sword from Damian's hands.

"If you feel terrible about Master Richard, that is not a reason for you to consider committing suicide," Alfred said.

"I . . . wasn't . . . ," Damian's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of ritual suicide, Pennyworth?"

"I know that it is something that a samurai would do if he had been disgraced. It was a way for him to regain his family's honor."

"You seem to know a lot, yet you work for my father."

"What you do not know about me would fill the Encyclopedia Britannica," Alfred stated with a slight smile on his lips. It was his way of showing he did have a sense of humor, but it seemed lost on the boy. He tried a different approach. "Just because I am a gentleman's gentleman does not mean that I have not had an education. Tell me, Master Damian, what were you planning on doing with this knife and why do you even have such a dangerous weapon in the first place?"

"I have been trained to use such a weapon, Pennyworth," Damian answered, somewhat offended. "My grandfather gave it to me before I came to live here, if you must know." Damian gave a huff. 'Along with a mission that obviously I have failed to accomplish, but I told Father that I did not want to kill, so why am I not happy at that fact?'

"Are you aware that I must inform Master Br . . . . uh hum . . . your father of this?." Alfred said holding out his hand so Damian could see the tanto.

"You may as well give him this as well," Damian reluctantly handed Alfred the bottle oil. For an instant, he had been contemplating on drinking it, but seeing what Grayson had gone through, he changed his mind. Then he remembered that he had also just cleaned the blade of the smaller weapon. "Careful, Pennyworth. Do not cut yourself on the blade."

Realizing what Damian was saying, Alfred's face paled. "I shall be careful, Master Damian. Now it is time that you should get some sleep."

"I was supposed to give Father the sword," Damian stated.

"He already has the sword down in the cave. There is no need to go and get it. Besides, your father is with Master Richard. He will not leave him until the oleander has been cleared from his system."

"Pennyworth," Damian began. "Why does my father care so much for someone who is not his son?"

"Master Richard is your father's son."

"No, he is not," Damian argued. "He . . . cannot be . . ."

"Master Damian, family is not necessarily defined by blood."

"I do not understand."

"Has your Mother told you about your father?"

"No, only that he is Batman. I have no other knowledge about who he is."

"Only your father can tell you about himself, Master Damian. And perhaps you will also learn why he cares so much for Master Richard."

"Can you tell me about Jason?" Damian asked changing the subject. He was still curious why his father would keep a door locked with that name on it and why he seemed sad when he asked who was Jason. "Who was he?"

"Your father should tell you," Alfred responded.

"My father will not. I am asking you."

"Of Master Jason, I will tell you this, he was also adopted by your father. Only something happened when they were on a trip together. Your father came home alone. You will find your answer out there." Alfred pointed out the window to an area of the Wayne estate that held a single lamp hanging above a gate. "If your father is reluctant to talk about Master Jason it is because the memories are still too painful."

"Do you know what happened?" Damian persisted.

"It is not my place to speculate," Alfred replied.

Damian though could see that Alfred was also reluctant to talk about Jason. In fact, Damian was sure he was hiding something; that Alfred did know what happened. There were just too many secrets. 'I am the son of Bruce Wayne. I have a right to know. Why won't they tell me? I am being treated like a child. It looks like I will have to find out about Jason on my own.'

"Now, Master Damian, we have talked long enough. It is time that you get your pajamas on and get into bed."

"I don't wear pajama," Damian stated. "And I can get myself ready for bed."

"I shall send your father up so he may say good night."

"There is no need, Pennyworth. I am not a child that needs tucking in at night."

"As you wish, young sir," Alfred said as he left Damian to himself.

Damian undressed and turned out the light. He sat on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. He just had to find out what was in that room. Even though he told his father that he did not want to kill him, that did not mean that he might in the future. If he was to learn all he could about his father then he would be able to decide whether what he assessed about the man was true, and that what he said about compassion not being a weakness was also true. He still wasn't sure on that end. His grandfather tried to teach him that emotions got in the way of doing what was necessary, and one could not afford to be compassionate when it came to dealing out justice.

"You must be dispassionate. When a person is guilty of a crime that they have committed or even have been accused of that crime, we cannot allow our emotions to sway us from dealing out the justice we know must be done."

"But Grandfather, what if the person is innocent?"

"There are no innocents, my Grandson. All are guilty."

"How can that be?"

"Have you not studied the Koran, the Torah, and even the Bible?"

"Yes, Grandfather, but . . ."

"There is no but . . . Mankind has sinned and will continue to do so. No one is innocent. Remember that."

'So, Father, what are you guilty of hiding?' Damian thought to himself. 'Something happened to Jason, and it is somehow your fault. Is that why Grandfather no longer sees you as worthy? Because you let your emotions rule you? I must know why before I decide. I know I said I did not want to kill you, but I may have to. If you are guilty of a crime Father, then you must be punished for that crime. I will find a way to learn the truth. As for Grayson . . . We shall see.'

Continues With Part 15


	15. Chapter 15

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 15

Damian feigned sleep. It was the only way to keep his father and Alfred from learning what he was about to do. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he was determined to learn who Jason was and his place in the family.

'Though I don't think of Grayson or Drake as family members. My Grandfather said blood is what matters the most. I don't understand why Father took them in. Just because Father sees them as family doesn't mean I have to.'

Damian moved through his darkened room and found the suitcase he had been carrying when he came to Wayne Manor. It was rather large and had several hidden pockets. The suitcase was chosen so it would appear as if everything he owned in the world he carried with him. That wasn't true. His Grandfather kept several things that belonged to Damian. For instance, his prized stallion Windrider. He couldn't take the horse with him so it had been left in the care of one of his servants.

Damian moved the suitcase where it was hidden by the bed. He opened the lid and found the pocket along the edge. He undid the zipper and using his fingers felt inside for the item that he sought. He pulled out a small cloth pouch. He could feel that the tools inside had not sustained any damage from the suitcase being moved around. Grabbing the pouch he glanced at the clock to see what time it was when something was shining outside his window, not exactly shining but something had caught his eye. He looked out to see against a cloud a large shadow of a symbol shaped like a bat. Was that a bat signal?

That meant his father and Tim would be racing to meet someone important. Batman and Robin were needed and that meant his father and Tim would be out of the house for several hours.

'Pennyworth will probably be down in the cave with Grayson. Looks like this is my chance.'

Damian opened the door and walked across the hall on silent footsteps. Learning to walk silently was the first lesson that had been drilled into him since he learned to walk. Damian kneeled down on the floor in front of the door that had Jason's name. He opened the pouch and chose a tool, a thin pick. He grasped the doorknob and pushed the pick into the lock and started working it. The lock gave way in seconds and Damian turned the nob and opened the door. He grabbed the rest of his tools and placed them in his pocket. He entered Jason's room and shut the door just in case Alfred came up the stairs to check. He couldn't help notice with the drapes closed the room was in near total darkness. Damian stood by the door until his eyes adjusted to the gloom. He then moved to where the drapes were and pulled one aside to allow light in. He didn't know what to expect when he turned back to examine the room.

It was your typical young teen room with posters of musical groups on the walls. There was a shelf with books along with a few toys, like a couple of remote control cars. On another shelf there were some photos. These were what Damian gravitated toward most of all. The photos showed a boy from various stages of his young life. The first was of Jason at age 10, the same as Damian, with a wide grin on his face. Sitting next to the photo was the declaration of adoption. Jason Todd had become Jason Todd-Wayne. Briefly looking at all the other photos, Damian saw what was different. Jason Todd's hair was a reddish blond, what some would call strawberry blond. He also had what looked like a white streak in his hair.

Damian looked at the other photos and could see that Jason had been dying his hair nearly black. Except for his eyes, which were a sea green, Jason almost looked like Dick. The only difference was the expression on his face, though pleasant enough, it showed something else that Damian could not quite put his finger on. The last photo, however, was very telling. Jason was barely smiling, and there was anger behind the eyes. By then, the boy was now a teenager around 14 years of age. Even Damian wondered what could have caused such a change in the boy who appeared so happy to be adopted to the boy who obviously had some difficulties that he was trying to hide. One question still remained. What happened to Jason Todd-Wayne?

Damian moved around the room to the desk and started looking through the drawers. He found a notebook and opened it. The boy's handwriting on an English Composition was fluid and yet controlled. It looked like something the boy had practiced to make sure he got every stroke of the pen right. Damian went through the drawers one more time. There wasn't much else in the drawers, pens, pencils, loose-leaf paper, grade reports. There was an old photograph of Batman and Robin. The photo made even Damian shudder because of what was written on it, and not just anywhere. The words were written all over Robin's face and body.

"DIE DICK GRAYSON DIE! I'M ROBIN NOW!"

Jason Todd hated Dick Grayson? Why? What could cause a child to hate another so? Damian thought about his first encounter with Dick Grayson. He thought the man was a criminal, a thief, but learning the truth, he had no animosity toward the man, except for the fact that he didn't believe Grayson should be considered a son of Bruce Wayne. Not to mention the fact that as part of his mission to kill his father, he was supposed to kill Dick Grayson as well.

'What is wrong with me? I had a chance to kill Grayson, but . . . Father stopped me. Now if I try to kill him . . . Father will probably hate me. If I am going to kill them, I have to kill them at the same time. And I must be prepared to die. I will not get out of Gotham alive.'

Damian looked at the photo once more. 'Is that what happened to Jason? Did he try to kill Grayson and Father killed him?'

Suddenly, Damian was being pulled by the collar and propelled out of the room. He still clung onto the photograph as he was escorted across the hall and into his own room. The light was turned on and as Damian was released, he wheeled around to face the person who grabbed him.

"That room is off limits Master Damian," Alfred stated. "This is a serious transgression that will have to be addressed as soon as your father gets home."

"Did my father commit murder because Jason hated Grayson and tried to kill him?" Could he have the very reason to kill his father after all? Justice did require that it be served for a crime having been committed. He would be serving justice after all, and yet something in the pit of his stomach made him feel sick.

"What? Where did you get such a notion?"

Damian showed Alfred the photo.

Alfred visibly paled when he saw what was written on it. He turned his head away talking to himself, forgetting that Damian was even there. "Oh Master Bruce, I tried to warn you that what you were doing would only cause the boy to have resentment."

"Did my father kill Jason?"

"What? No Master Damian. Jason did not die by your Father's hand, though he might as well have."

"I don't understand," Damian stated.

"Perhaps it is best that you know. Master Jason was killed overseas when he went to search for his birth mother. He was murdered, but not by your father. He got there too late to save him and has blamed himself ever since. That room is kept locked so he does not have to be reminded that he failed."

Relief flooded through Damian at the fact that he would not have to meet justice out on his father after all. Even so, seeing the boy's face reminded him of someone, someone that he only saw briefly at his grandfather's home, just before he came to Wayne Manor. It was only a glimpse. He had forgotten something in the training room. There was another person in there, someone he wasn't allowed to see or meet. He had been told the person had been badly injured and needed time to recover. The person was practicing kicks and flips. Damian noticed the person was wearing a mask. He could hear the person muttering about something. Damian didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he swore that what the person was muttering about was in regards to the very man he was going to meet, his father Bruce Wayne.

"I'll show you. You're methods won't work. You have to show them whose boss. And if it means killing a few crime bosses . . . Still . . . there's one more reason why I'll be coming back. I know you didn't kill him. That's all I want is him for what he did to me. ME, your son. And if you won't kill him, Bruce . . . then I will."

Damian watched near the doorway as the young man moved toward a bench and picked up what looked like a red helmet.

"And then I'll kill everyone you have ever cared for, the one who replaced me and Dickie Bird because you loved him more than you did me, and finally you. And because I want you to know who it is . . . I won't be wearing this helmet, but it will be the last thing you'll ever see."

A shudder ran through Damian one more time from the memory. It was a feeling like someone had just walked on his grave.

"Master Damian?" Alfred questioned. "Your face has gone pale. Are you ill?"

Damian turned toward Alfred then swallowed. "I need to warn Father."

"Warn your father? Warn him about what?"

"I think Jason is alive."

Continues with Part 16


	16. Chapter 16

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 16

Damian wasn't be able to warn his father about Jason with Dick in recovery. Instead the youngest got a lecture about breaking and entering. And Damian had to give up his lock picks. Angry with his father Damian decided to keep what could be vital information from Bruce. If his father could keep secrets so could he.

'All I wanted to do was know who was Jason. Alfred wouldn't tell me. Father wouldn't tell me either. I remembered something that I overheard before I came here, and seeing those photos, I swear that the man who was in my father's training room was Jason Todd, but would my father listen? No. He was more interested in knowing about Grayson. And now I'm stuck cleaning the bathrooms with Alfred's supervision. So where is he. Probably with Grayson as well.'

Damian's thoughts were not that far off. All attention was placed on the eldest as he lay in the medical bay. Alfred handed Dick another glass of water containing the activated charcoal.

"Awe come on Alfred, do I have to keep drinking this stuff?" Dick complained.

"You must drink it for one more day," Alfred insisted.

"Bruce . . ."

"No complaints Dick. You do as Alfred says. We want your system completely clear of the Digoxin Immune Fab."

"I've got to get back to Bludhaven . . ."

"I've already called your Captain, she's not expecting you for another month."

"A MONTH! I was only taking a week off," Dick exclaimed.

"I explained that you had a case of walking pneumonia and that you had been hospitalized. Plus, you are still weak." The second part wasn't a lie. Dick was still weak from the poison and was going to require extensive physical therapy to bring his muscles back to the shape they had been in.

"Can I at least get out of bed?" Dick asked. "Maybe even get out of this gloomy cave? I haven't seen the sunshine for what seems like a week, just these cave walls."

"I think we can move you back up to your own room," Bruce said.

"But you must stay in bed," Alfred amended.

"Well. It's better than nothing," Dick said. "Where's Tim?"

"He's out patrolling. He hasn't been able to do that since . . ."

"What about Damian?" Dick asked. "I mean I haven't seen him since he tried to . . . You know. I just wanted to tell him something."

"As soon as you are moved to your room, I'll send Master Damian to you."

Bruce was pensive. Damian seemed pre-occupied the last day. Alfred told him about the night before when Damian snuck into Jason's room. Bruce had sternly sat his son down and told him that certain rooms were locked for a reason.

"We don't go into someone else's space and start snooping around.'

"But Father I found . . ."

"Damian, you just aren't listening. I don't care what you found. You do not go into a locked room unless it is with permission."

"But I am your son, I have a right to go anywhere . . ."

"Just because you are my son, does not give you the right to violate someone's privacy."

"But Jason's dead. It doesn't matter . . ."

A dark stony stare caused Damian to swallow the words he was about to utter.

"You will not utter another word about Jason," Bruce said. "Now, Alfred will decide what is an appropriate punishment for someone who likes to snoop in places that they shouldn't. I must get back down to Dick and see how he's doing."

And that's what Bruce was doing when he got the signal.

"That's Robin's emergency signal."

"You need any help?" Dick asked.

"Sorry, Nightwing is grounded for now," Bruce said, as he rushed to get his uniform on.

"I'm not 12 years old Bruce."

"And you are still recovering from Oleander poisoning," Batman remarked remarked. "Your muscles aren't up for something strenuous."

Dick gave Bruce a glare that could almost rival Batman, but not quite. He watched forlornly as Batman raced to the batmobile, climbed in, then exited the cave entrance and headed to Gotham City,

"Do Master Bruce a favor Master Richard," Alfred stated. "Don't argue with him. You know he is right on this subject."

"I know, but I can't help razzing him every now and then. He's so over protective."

"And he is that way for a reason, Master Richard. Though he does not say it, it is his way of showing that he cares very deeply for his sons."

Dick couldn't argue with Alfred on that. Deep down he knew that Bruce cared. He just wished he would hear it more from him. "Where's Damian? I haven't seen him at all."

"I sent him to clean your bathroom. I have been busy preparing tonight's dinner. And I have had to prepare your drink as well."

"Alfred, I think you better check," Dick insisted. "I know the kid's been a pain since he arrived, but I just have this feeling he's in some kind of trouble."

"You and Master Bruce always had this sixth sense when it came to knowing when the other was in trouble." Alfred stated and added in his own thoughts, 'Master Bruce sensed that something was wrong when Damian attacked you. He must have taken the stairs from the bat cave three at a time. I never saw him move so fast in such a long time.'

Alfred nodded then went upstairs to check on Damian. He went into Dick's private bathroom and found the bucket of water and the mop untouched. Alfred swiftly moved to Damian's room and found the window open. A rope had been tied securely to the railing.

'He could not have gone far," Alfred thought. Then he remembered the time when Dick ran away when he was 11. The circumstances were no longer important, but how he got to Gotham City was. Alfred went down to the garage and discovered that one of the three doors had been opened. He carefully looked around and discovered his Alf-cycle had been stolen. Damian was gone.

Continues with Part 17


	17. Chapter 17

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 17

Damian took the bucket and pale into Grayson's bathroom.

"You will scrub the floor after you scrub the counters and the shower," Alfred said. "I shall be back to check on your work."

After Alfred had left, Damian put the mob up against the wall and checked at Grayson's bedroom door for any sound of the butler. Finding none, Damian raced back to his room, grabbed a rope that he kept in his suitcase and tied it to the railing. He climbed down to the ground and realized he had no transportation. Entering the garage through a side door, he found the perfect vehicle, though not quite as fast as a motorcycle would have been and he was too young to drive a car, but it would do in a pinch. At least it had wheels. Damian opened one of the garage doors and pulled out the bicycle. Mounting the bike he sped into the night.

He had to get to Drake. He had to warn him. If his father wasn't going to listen, then perhaps Drake would. After all, didn't Drake replace Todd as Robin? That's what the man meant, wasn't it? If he could get to Drake, he could warn him that Jason was alive and was planning on going after him. The thing was, all he had was his memory of what he heard. He didn't have any proof that it was true. He just hoped that Drake would believe him.

It took another hour for Damian to locate Drake. He found him sprawled on the floor of an abandoned warehouse. He was also bleeding pretty badly.

"DRAKE!" Damian cried out then his eyes narrowed. The assassin in him wanted to hurt the person responsible. "No, who did this?"

Cough, cough A trickle of blood ran down the side of Robin's mouth. "Red . . . helmet."

"Drake, you're bleeding badly. I don't know if I can stop it."

"Emergency . . . tracking . . ." Robin tried to reach for the buckle on his utility belt.

"There's something underneath the buckle?"

Robin tried to nod his head.

Damian reached for the buckle and discovered it opened. Inside was a red nob. He turned the red nob so it was on.

"That will . . . bring . . . Batman," Robin said, his head lulling to one side.

"Drake, DRAKE! Don't you die on me!" Damian screamed. "Father will be mad! He may even blame it on me."

Damian examined Drake's wounds. The worst one was located on his left side in his rib cage just below the heart. It looked like he had been stabbed. He tore his shirt and tried to press the cloth to Drake's wound to keep him from bleeding out.

"DRAKE! DRAKE! You've got to stay awake!" Damian slapped Robin across the face, but it did no good. Robin had slipped into unconsciousness.

What did he say when he asked him who did this? Red helmet? Could he mean the assailant had a red helmet? If that was the case, then Todd could be here in Gotham, and he may very well have attacked Robin. Damian looked around but he dared not remove his hands from the wound. As best he could Damian checked Drake's utility belt for something that could help stop the bleeding.

"ROBIN!"

Damian heard the familiar voice of his father. He looked up to see Batman standing over him.

"Damian, what are you doing here?"

"I . . . I"

"Damian, if you had anything to do with this . . ."

"I didn't, Father!' Damian argued, suddenly remembering he was the grandson of Ra's al Ghul. "And if you would have listened to me you would know who did this."

"I am not going to argue with you."

"Drake is hurt bad and all you want to do is accuse me of this. I found him like this. He could die while your standing there!"

"You're right. You better go home. We'll talk about this later."

/

A lone figure watched in the shadows, hoping to see the man he waited for, but he did not expect to see a kid at first. He watched as the kid tried to stop the bleeding from the wound that the figure had given the young hero, but he didn't expect the kid to know whom Robin was or to hear the kid call Batman father. That had been his privilege. Who was this kid? He looked familiar, but he could not place him. The figure watched as the kid got on a bicycle and headed away from the warehouse district. In a few more minutes Batman was carrying Robin to the batmobile and streaking into the night.

He had to admit, the Robin had put up a fight, but in the end, he made one mistake, possibly a fatal one. And yet, he had not given him the fatal strike. He allowed his hand to go just an inch or two below where the blade needed to go. Maybe that's all he needed to let the big man know he was back in town. And if that wasn't enough, he had other ways of getting his attention. He had hoped to convince a few criminals they should join in with him and he was also hoping that also would draw the attention of a certain clown. Those could wait. Right now, he wanted to know why that brat called Batman, Father.

The red helmeted figure moved out of the shadows and headed in the direction where Damian had gone. It didn't take him long to spot the kid. The bike he was riding, though fast, wasn't fast enough for a well-placed grappling hook. All he had to do was draw the kid's attention and have him follow.

Damian grumbled his way across Gotham City and headed back toward the highway that would lead him home. He could have helped his father take Drake home, but instead he was dismissed like a disobedient child. He knew why his father did it, so he could be at Wayne Manor to give him a lecture once he got home.

'Well, I'm not going to let you lecture me, Father. I am the grandson of Ra's al Ghul. I will find this red helmeted assailant and take him down myself.' Damian pulled from the back of his torn shirt a batarang that he had taken from Drake's utility belt. The batarang was small, but sharp. It was all he needed. He had taken down lesser opponents in his grandfather's training room. He would prove to his father that he was also worthy of being a Wayne and the son of Batman.

As Damian made his way through the streets of Gotham, he turned the Alf-bike away from the road that would lead him home and headed to the darker streets, keeping an eye out for someone wearing a red helmet. The problem was, he didn't have anything else to go on. Within the course of several minutes he saw several people wearing red helmets and riding motorcycles, but he instantly ruled them out because none of the helmets fit the image he remembered in his head. The assailant had to be around here somewhere.

"Where do you think your going kid?"

"Ain't it past your bedtime?"

Damian's eyes narrowed at the two thugs that blocked his path. "I don't have time for this."

"Look at the shrimp, he's trying to act tough."

Damian kicked out and caught one of the two thugs across the jaw, dropping him where he stood.

"Hey, you can't do that to my friend."

"I just did," Damian retorted. "And if you don't want the same, you better leave well enough alone."

"I'd agree with him."

"Huh?" Damian looked up to see someone in a red helmet. The helmet covered the person's head completely. 'It's him.'

The other thug ran into the alley trying to get away from the man in the red helmet. Damian ran after them. The man in the red helmet cornered the thug.

"Looks like you're out of options."

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!"

"It's the end of the line for you," the red helmeted man pulled out a gun and fired.

Damian looked on with horror in his eyes. Even during his training as an assassin he never trained with such a weapon. Some of the training he received didn't leave a mark. Damian stood frozen in place as he watched the thug drop to the ground. Everything seemed to move in slow motion after that. The man in the red helmet came closer then suddenly, Damian felt the butt of the gun strike him across the side of his head and he blacked out.

"Nighty night little brother. Looks like you and I are going to have a little talk."

Continues with Part 18

A/N: The next part might take me longer to write, if I get it posted by tomorrow, I'll be surprised. Have to think about where this is going. But it will continue. I know one thing Damian is going to be in a lot of trouble. He's already in trouble for sneaking out of the house. You'll just have to wait and see what happens next.


	18. Chapter 18

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 18

Damian woke to find himself in a shabby room that had seen better days, maybe 50 years ago. The walls were covered with yellowing and peeling wallpaper. The floors were stripped of their varnish and marred with stains that Damian did not want to speculate about. The couch that Damian found himself on was lumpy and torn in places. He could see that some of the stuffing was exposed. He could hear the sound of gnawing and wondered if there might be a family of mice living inside the framework. The thought didn't give him much comfort and thoughts about being bitten by rabid mice caused him to shudder.

"Well, I see you're finally awake, little Bro."

Damian turned toward the voice and saw it was the guy in the red helmet.

"Who are you supposed to be with that red helmet, Todd. And I'm not your Bro, whatever that means."

"So, you learned my secret, and the name's Red Hood. Oh, and Bruce Wayne did adopt me, so that makes me your older brother."

"I don't think so, since you died!" Damian retorted. "Haven't you heard? All contracts become null and void after death."

"So, sounds like Bruce got himself hitched with a live one."

"What do you mean?"

"You are his son, aren't you?"

"His true son," Damian answered.

"Well, you see, that's too bad." Jason Todd said. "See, I know about your little directive to kill Bruce and his first ward, Dick Grayson. I don't have anything against Grayson. I mean Dick was pretty nice as a big brother, he did teach me a thing or two, but he can be so annoying in his own way. I wouldn't mind taking a pot shot at him myself."

"NO!" Damian launched himself at Todd, but the former Robin was able to dodge the boy. Damian crashed into a nearby table.

"Nice try, but your aim needs a little work. Listen up pipsqueak, you do your job kill Grayson and Wayne or you won't be returning to al Ghul. I'll tell him you've turned traitor. I've already taken care of my replacement. You better do the same with the rest of the Wayne Clan."

"The rest of the Wayne Clan?" Damian questioned. 'Does that include you?' he thought to himself.

"That's what I said," Todd replied.

"Then I'm going to need a weapon," Damian thought it best to play along. He didn't know if Todd's threats were real, but just in case, he didn't want to be unarmed. And he fought better with a blade in his hand. "Preferably a blade."

Todd tossed Damian a knife, one that he recognized all too well. The blade landed on the couch next to him.

"Where did you get this?"

"Who do you think gave it to me?"

Damian frowned that his grandfather would give Todd this particular blade. It had been a gift from his Nanny. It was also the blade that killed her. Then Damian noticed something that had not been on the blade before. He could see a spot of drying blood near the hilt. Was this the blade he used on Drake? Todd wasn't too careful about cleaning the weapon.

"If I succeed in doing this who's going to take the blame for their deaths?"

"Why don't you know, the butler is always the one to do it."

"What do you have against Pennyworth?"

"Oh nothing, but you're right. Someone has to take the blame. And you have no choice. You'll have one week to make your move. And if you don't I may have to take matters into my own hands, and I won't stop just with Grayson or Bruce. Get my meaning? You're to tell no one of our meeting."

"How am I supposed to get home? I came in on a bicycle."

"Let me worry about that," Todd said. "First of all, since you were almost mugged, we're going to have to make it look good, otherwise Batsy might get suspicious."

"Look good? What do you mean Todd?"

"This," Todd struck out and punched Damian in the face then followed up with a kick to the ribs. He hit him a couple more times then let loose with a small pellet of gas right in Damian's face. "Good night little prince."

/

Batman raced into the cave with a comatose Robin. His wound luckily stopped bleeding but he hadn't regained consciousness. Batman feared the worst. He carried Robin over to the bio-bed in the medical bay and started stripping Robin's uniform from his body along with his domino mask. He saw the damage that had been done, and even he took a hitch in his breath. Bruises covered Tim's body. His face was swollen from powerful fists hitting the soft flesh of his face. His lip was split and after removing the mask, he discovered there was a gash above one eye. The worst damage was the knife wound. Any higher and the knife would have done its work and Batman would be carrying home a body for burial.

"Master Bruce, I came down to tell you Master Richard has been moved to his . . . Oh my . . . Master Timothy."

Bruce wiped the blood that had dried along Tim's side. He carefully applied ointment to the smaller cuts along Tim's arms where he must have tried to block the knife.

"Is he . . ."

"Barely. He slipped into a coma. He lost a lot of blood."

"I'll start an IV for him," Alfred replied. Alfred pulled out a pint of blood from the reserve in the freezer and started warming the bag. He then grabbed the IV tubing and a needle to start the transfusion.

"He'll need surgery to close the knife wound in his side. If it hadn't been for Damian . . ."

"I'll get my suturing kit," Alfred said then commented, "Master Damian found him? Why would he do that?"

"He tried to tell me something earlier. I didn't listen," Bruce said quietly. "Thinks have not gone very well since his first week here."

"I should say so. You only met him on the first day then you refused to acknowledge his presence by going out with Master Richard. You have barely said two words to the boy."

"I know Alfred."

"Damian is not to blame for his Mother's treatment of you."

"She stole DNA from me, Alfred," Bruce argued. "She tricked me. I would have loved her if she could have given up on her father's ambitions. To learn that she also uses that cursed Lazarus Pit, and learning what it does to her Father's mind every time . . . I could not go through that. I would rather see my body destroyed then to put my sons through that. And to find she created a child from that DNA, a child trained to be an assassin . . . I'm afraid I'm not coping very well with it."

"As I said, Master Bruce. You should not blame the boy for who his grandfather is or his mother. He was dropped in your care, and he is your son. Perhaps you can teach him just what that means."

"I don't know. I seem to have forgotten how to be a father."

"I do not believe that, Sir," Alfred said. "Look what you continue to do for Master Richard and even for Master Timothy."

Bruce scoffed at Alfred's words. He could believe that he was still acting as Dick's father sometimes, but Timothy, he didn't want another father, at least as far as he could see. He came to live at the Manor just last year. His need of a father was less so. Dick at times seemed to still crave that need even though he was a young man. Thinking how Dick clung to him, pleading with him to make the pain go away, brought all that back to him when Dick was just a boy and starting out. Maybe he could be a father to Damian. They just needed to get back on track, start over. Bruce wished he could go back to their first meeting and change everything. Unfortunately, the damage was done. The only thing he could do was rectify the situation, and hopefully, try to listen to his youngest son's needs. Speaking of the boy, Damian should have been back by now.

Alfred noticed the worried look on Bruce's face. "Go ahead. Master Bruce. I shall take care of Master Timothy."

A buzzer sounded that signaled someone was at the front door. Bruce ran up the steps to the main house and ran to the front door. He opened it wide and in the glare of the lamplight . . .

"Damian!"

The boy was sprawled on the front steps, the Alf-cycle lying next to him. A note was pinned to his chest.

"I think you lost something."

Bruce looked around and saw no one. He picked Damian up in his arms and closed the front door. He should not have let Damian return home on his own. Something happened to him, and yet someone had found him and brought him home. Still a baffling question entered his mind. He was positive that no one knew since Alfred hadn't put any announcements in the society pages of the local newspapers.

Who knew that Damian was his son and how did they know he lived at Wayne Manor?

Continues with Part 19


	19. Chapter 19

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 19

The damage done to Damian wasn't as severe as Bruce feared. He was bruised and battered, but not much else. There were no wounds. Though Damian's pride seemed to be more hurt than from the beating he had received. Bruce had carried him up to his room. He took Damian into his private bathroom, stripped him of the clothes he had been wearing, wiped what blood he could see off of his son, and changed him into a pair of pajamas and waited for him to fully recover.

"Can you tell me who did this, son," Bruce spoke softly, trying to keep the anger he felt under control. He was angry that Damian had ran away and also angry that Damian had not gone home right away when he ordered him to do so. He also had to deal with the fact that Damian had been found with Tim, and Tim had been beaten and stabbed within an inch of his life.

"I was heading home as you ordered me to," Damian explained, his face turned away. "I was attacked. They tried to steel my bicycle . . ."

"The bicycle actually belongs to Alfred," Bruce corrected.

Damian ignored his father's attempt at correcting him. "I kept them from taking the bike, but I do not know how I got home."

"Very well," Bruce said. Damian had not told him the whole truth since he had been gone for several hours. Far too much time had passed for it to be a simple mugging. And knowing about Damian's training, he would have been able to handle a mugging without receiving a scratch. "Get some sleep."

"How is Drake?" Damian asked.

"Alive. Did Tim tell you anything before he passed out?"

"Only to turn on the emergency tracking button in his utility belt," which was partially true. Drake had directed Damian to open his belt buckle and turn the red switch that was hidden inside. 'But how can I tell my father that Jason is alive and he attacked Drake? And now, Todd wants me to kill my father and Grayson or he'll kill me, too.'

"Did you see anyone else in the area?"

"No," Damian answered. That was a truthful answer. Damian had not seen anyone else.

"All right, Damian. Get some sleep. Goodnight." Bruce left Damian's room.

Damian remained in the dark. He didn't go to sleep right away, but brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on his arms. He was at a quandary. He did come here to kill his father and to kill Grayson, when he had an opportunity. It was ironic that the man he thought was a thief stealing his brother's things was in fact Richard. Damian also learned that Richard wasn't a Wayne as he thought. Richard was the very man that he came to kill, Richard Grayson. He wasn't told that his father had adopted Richard, let alone adopted two other boys, one just last year. And that boy was lying in the bat cave in a coma. And the other, Jason Todd had been responsible for that coma. How could he tell his father? Not only that, he had one week to finish the job he had been sent to do or end up dead, either by Jason Todd's hands or his grandfather's, Ra's al Ghul.

'But I don't want to kill my father,' Damian thought. And he found himself defending Grayson as well. He should not have cared about the man, but Damian had been impressed with the way Richard Grayson had tried to elude him. He did some moves he had not seen before, leaping up into a chandelier that obviously could not hold his weight. The man was athletic as well as surprisingly fluid in his motion.

Exhaustion finally took its toll and Damian fell into a restless sleep, a sleep filled with images that filled Damian with dread. He saw the lifeless body of his father and of Grayson, bloody beyond recognition, their faces pale as alabaster, and their eyes had the look of betrayal. Damian saw himself standing over the bodies with a sword dripping with the mingled blood of his father and brother.

"NO!" Damian screamed, tears streaming down his face, his eyes so wide you could see the whites of his eyes. "NO!"

"DAMIAN!" Someone rushed to his side calling his name. "Damian, it's okay. It's only a nightmare. Wake up, it's all right."

"No, no, no," Damian continued to cry out in anguish.

"Shhhhhh, it's all right, I'm here."

Damian slowly became aware that someone held him and was rocking him.

"It's all right."

The voice became clearer in his mind and he realized it was, ". . . Grayson? What are you doing?" A frown came over Damian's face, but inside he had this curious sensation of being comforted. It reminded him of his nanny.

"You were screaming in your sleep. I could hear you clear down the hall."

"Shouldn't you be in bed Grayson?"

"It's almost 5:00 am and I'm tired of being in bed. You on the other hand still need to get some sleep. Can you tell me what your dream was about?"

"No," Damian said refusing to divulge the nightmare images he had seen. It wasn't as if he was afraid they might come true, he knew if he followed what his grandfather wanted, the images would be all too real.

"Awe come on little D, you can tell me," Dick coaxed.

"I'd rather not Grayson. And why did you call me little D?"

Dick pointed to himself then said, "Big D," then he pointed to Damian, "Little D. Since our names begin with the same letter . . ."

"That's childish Grayson."

"Hey, come on. You can call me Dick."

Damian gave the older man a smirk. "Do you even know what that sounds like? Wait a minute, why are you even talking to me after what I did . . ."

"And I forgive you, too," Dick responded. "Look, we got off on the wrong foot. We hadn't even been properly introduced. So . . ." Placing Damian back on the bed, Dick stood up and extended his hand. "Hi, my name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick."

Damian looked confused at first then slowly took Dick's hand. "I am Damian Wayne."

"Wayne? Oh, you must be Bruce's biological son. He was telling me about you the other day. I'm pleased to meet you. I've always wanted a little brother."

It felt strange being introduced. Damian had a question of his own. "Could you tell me when my father adopted you and why?"

"Well, that's a long story . . ."

"If you do not wish to tell me . . ."

"It's not that," Dick began, "It's just some things are not easy to talk about, even now."

Damian noticed a change came over Grayson. His eyes began to get all misty and there was an emotional tinge to his words as he tried to explain what happened.

"Um, it was . . . it happened when I was ten years old . . . I um . . . I saw . . . my parents . . ."

"Master Bruce took Master Richard in because he witnessed his parents dying due to their trapeze breaking. Everyone believed it was an accident, but Richard knew that it wasn't."

"Pennyworth? How long were you standing out there?"

"Long enough, Master Damian," Alfred said. "It is still too early for both of you. I came looking for Master Richard because it is time for him to drink his medicine."

"Awe, come on Alfred," Dick complained, though he was relieved at the same time. That meant he didn't have to explain what happened. At times it was too painful, especially when he realized today was that day. "I've had enough of that stuff. I'm about as cleaned out as a fire sale in a lady's department store."

"You must have this four more times today, then we must do a blood test to know if you are clean. And I shall have no more argument or I shall give it to you an extra day."

"I can't, not on this day," Dick said, his eyes pleading. 'I need to be somewhere and you know I need to be able to say goodbye in my own way, to honor their memories. I can't be stuck . . .'

Alfred's face softened. "Very well. Get some more sleep though and I shall take a blood sample and test it for the Digoxin Immune Fab. If I do not find any, then you do not have to drink any more. Then you will be free to pursue what it is you need to do."

"Thanks Alfred."

Damian looked puzzled as the butler and Grayson held this obvious private conversation in his room.

"If you don't mind, I wish to get some sleep," Damian stated. "Oh and Grayson, if you come into my room again unannounced, I shall kill you."

"I was only trying to help you with your nightmare."

"I don't have nightmares," Damian denied.

"Well, then if that wasn't a nightmare, then that must have been some fantasy dream with some pretty girl."

"Grayson," Damian looked appalled. "I do not indulge in fantasies and if I did, I certainly would not tell you."

"All right, little D," Dick said. "Have it your way, but if you ever want to talk, I'm just two doors down. Just not today."

Damian watched Alfred and Dick leave his room in peace, but peace would not fully come. He was still disturbed by the dream . . . no Grayson was right . . . the nightmare. Even so, when Pennyworth mentioned Grayson's parents and him witnessing their deaths, he still did not understand why his father had taken Grayson into the Manor. So, Grayson watched his parents die, that wasn't anything special. People witness people dying everyday. What made Grayson's parents special? Then he recalled Pennyworth's last words. 'Master Richard knew that it wasn't.' It wasn't . . . what . . . an accident? Did he mean that Richard Grayson's parents were murdered? Even so, that still did not explain why his father took in a circus kid.

Damian's eyes were growing heavy again. 'Well, I'm not going to solve this mystery over night. May as well get some sleep.'

Just the same, Damian could not help wonder what was so special about today and what was Grayson planning on doing.

Continues with Part 20

A/N: This story is taking a rather interesting twist. My muse decided to include about Dick Grayson a little more than expected here. As for Damian, he's still going to be in a quandary to know what he should do. Should he tell his father about Jason Todd or should he follow his grandfather's directive. Well, we will learn soon enough. I just hope my muse will let me know as well. Sometimes things just flow out when the muse wants it to. Who knows.


	20. Chapter 20

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 20

Several hours later found both Damian and Dick getting up to have breakfast. Dick was dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants. The shoes he wore didn't look like dress shoes, but something that would be worn on an exercise mat. Damian frowned when he saw the way his brother . . . no the way Grayson was dressed. It seemed odd, but what was stranger still was the look on Grayson's face. It was thoughtful.

"Ready to go?" Bruce said as he entered the kitchen.

Damian noticed his father was holding a large bouquet of roses.

"Sure," Dick answered

"Masters Bruce and Richard," Alfred commanded. "You will both sit down and have some breakfast before you leave."

"Can't." Bruce said.

"We're already late," Dick finished.

'Late? For what?' Damian thought. "Father, where are you and Grayson going?"

"This is private Damian," Bruce stated.

"It's okay Bruce," Dick replied. "I don't mind." Dick kneeled down so he was at eye level with the ten-year-old. "Your father and I are going to pay our respects to my parents. He's paying his respect in his way," Dick gave his adopted father a nod as he held the roses. "And I'll be honoring my parents in my own way."

"Are they buried near by?"

"Not exactly," Dick said. "My parents are buried in Newtown, outside of Gotham."

"We will be going to the cemetery first and then to the circus."

"You are going to pay your respects by going to a circus? Circuses are just childish entertainment." Damian's puzzled look told all. He did not understand.

"Perhaps we should take him with Bruce." Dick said.

"You and I have always done this together," Bruce said though his eyes stated, 'This is between us. I was there and I want to share this only with you.'

"He's been asking questions, ones I cannot really answer, not without showing him. Besides, what kid doesn't like a circus?"

"What about . . . Drake?" Damian asked

"Master Timothy is still in a coma," Alfred said. "I shall keep and eye on him. And if you wish, Master Damian, you could help me with Master Timothy. I am going to need to change his bandages and I may need an assistant."

'Um, sure. I guess." Damian sounded unsure of himself. He really wanted to go with his Father and find out just what it was he and Grayson were doing. The roses that his father carried were probably going to be placed at a gravesite, but he did not understand why they were going to the circus afterward. It didn't make much sense.

"I can see that your heart isn't in it Master Damian. Are you still upset about finding Master Timothy in the state that he was in as well as getting mugged?"

'How did Pennyworth . . .' then he realized that his father must have told the butler.

Damian bowed his head, trying to appear just as Alfred had said. It wasn't that difficult. He was concerned for Drake. Todd could have killed him, but he didn't quite understand why he had not. The question though Damian didn't have an answer for was why did Todd even attack Drake at all? If he got an opportunity, he might just have to ask the former adopted son of Bruce Wayne. The thought of Jason Todd suddenly caused Damian to shudder and he wrapped his arms around himself.

The sudden change in Damian did not go unnoticed. Both Bruce and Dick looked at each other. Something else happened that Damian had not disclosed. Bruce knew it from when he found Damian outside on their doorstep and Dick knew it from having rushed into Damian's room as he cried out in his sleep from a nightmare that obviously disturbed him greatly.

"Perhaps it would be best if you take Master Damian with you," Alfred said. "It might do him good to not be reminded of what happened."

Bruce gave Dick a slight nod and Dick gave Bruce a slight smile. Maybe between the two of them, they might get Damian to reveal just what it was that was troubling him. Going to the circus might put him at ease enough to where he might just talk.

"All right,' Bruce said. "If Dick doesn't mind, then I guess you can come with us. But, you must show the utmost respect."

"Yes, Father," Damian stated, then rushed from the room to grab his shoes.

The day was warm for a spring day. The sun was threatening to bake everyone to a crisp though half heartily. They arrived at Robinson Cemetery in Newtown within 30 minutes of leaving the Wayne Manor. Bruce pulled up to the large granite marker. If John and Mary Grayson saw the marker, they would think it was too grand for a pair of circus performers. Bruce and Dick got out of the car and walked toward the marker. Bruce placed the flowers in the center between the two names. Silently they stood there, both in their own thoughts. Then Dick suddenly grabbed Bruce around the waste as he did when he was a boy and buried his face in his adopted father's chest.

Damian sat in the car and watched the pair. He couldn't believe how weak Grayson looked, clinging to HIS father as if he was truly his son. Ugly thoughts entered Damian's head and for a moment, he wished that Grayson had not recovered from the oleander poisoning. It would have made his job much easier. Perhaps there was still a chance to rectify the situation. Even so, his heart warred with his head on what he was supposed to do, and whether he was going to get any opportunity to do either.

Before long, Damian was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts when Bruce and Dick re-entered the vehicle.

"Well, the first part is completed," Bruce said. "Will you be able to do the next?" Bruce asked Dick.

Dick wiped away the tears "I should be able to. You know last year, you weren't able to be here remember?"

"Yes, I will never forget. You came after me. You didn't have to. It would have been fine by me if you hadn't."

"And sacrifice yourself? Oh Alfred would have loved that. He's the one who called me in. I had to come. You know I'd die for you."

'I know, you almost did."

Damian's ears piqued at that as he listened in on the conversation. He couldn't help it. The car they were in was small and neither his father nor Grayson were talking at a level where he could not hear. Grayson, die for his father? Just what kind of a relationship did his father and Grayson have? His mother told him that Grayson was Robin, but that turned out to be a lie. Dick had not been Robin for, how long? At least six years?

'My mother's information was out of date on that one.'

Damian was still lost in thought when the car pulled into a large parking lot. There were several tents that had been erected. Damian could see a large sign that said Haly Circus on the front.

"I'll let Harrison know you're here," Dick said and I'll meet you inside. The show should be starting soon. You know where your seat is. I just have to clear it with Haly that we have a guest."

Bruce and Damian watched as Dick headed to a small old fashion looking circus wagon.

"Father, I do not understand why we are here."

"Let's just say, this is Dick's way of honoring his parents," Bruce said. "Come on, the show will be starting soon. Let's get some cotton candy and some popcorn and take our seats."

Damian followed his father's lead. He tried the popcorn and found it too salty and it was coated in a fatty substance. His father explained that it was called butter. The cotton candy was sweet and sugary and it melted in his mouth. It was a strange sensation, not all that unpleasant. They found their seats easily enough. They were in the front row and right in the center. The seats filled up quickly. The show started with a couple of animal acts then some clowns came out. Another animal act appeared then it was time for the aerial acts.

"Ladies and gentlemen! We have a very special treat for you. High above the center ring, we have a special guest performer. In fact, Haly's Circus was home for this young man many years ago. He flew with his parents. You may recall their name. The Flying Graysons! On his debut performance he was the youngest to ever perform a quadruple flip, a very dangerous trick. The performer must spin very fast and rely heavily on the catcher. Quiet now folks as Dick Grayson performs this amazing feat to honor his parents."

Bruce and Damian looked up to see Dick standing on one of the two platforms. Damian's eyes were wide as saucers. Bruce looked over at his son to see the wonder on his face. He then looked up to see Dick launch himself into space. Four forward turns lead him across the arena. He stretched out his arms and he grasped the catcher's wrists as he did his father's. It was a performance worthy of the day he performed it the first time.

Bruce along with everyone in the audience rose to their feet, applauding the efforts of the performers. Nothing else would compare after that. There just wasn't anyone as good as a Flying Grayson.

As Dick was performing, he remembered what his father said, "When you are in that tuck you're spinning too fast to see anything. If you try to look, it will throw you off, so DON'T. Just close your eyes, remember your training, and trust your partner to be there for you."

Dick remembered those words, not just applying to his father John Grayson, but he later applied them to his guardian and new father, Bruce Wayne, who had proved time and time again, that he would be there to catch him.

After the performance, Bruce and Damian met Dick behind the scenes in a wagon that Bruce had not seen since before Dick came to live with him.

"I don't think I've seen this place before."

"It was my parents wagon. After Jason . . . I mean after that time two years ago, I came here, trying to decide on what I was going to do."

"Yes, I remember."

"They kept my parents wagon for me and well . . ."

"I think I prefer the Manor," Damian said.

"Well, it was only used when we went on the road," Dick explained. "My parents owned a house in Florida, which I haven't been to in a long time either."

"I still do not understand why my father took you in."

"Bruce, didn't you tell Damian about your parents?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed then turned away. His face became a hard mask.

"See, Bruce and I have a common bond. We both witnessed the death of our parents. No one else understood what either of us went through. And the only person I found I could really talk about it was Bruce. He understood."

"Thanks Dick, I don't think I could have explained it as well."

"You have given me a lot to think about Grayson," Damian said. "Father, why didn't you tell me about . . ."

"Your grandparents?"

Damian's eyes grew wide. He hadn't considered that Bruce Wayne's parents were also his grandparents.

"Was the murderer ever caught?" Damian asked.

Bruce's face took on an odd sadness that was different than the anger that had been on his face earlier, and yet some of that anger remained. He didn't know how to explain to Damian how the man Joe Chill had amnesia and didn't remember killing his parents, until . . . The justice that he wanted for his parents had been bitter sweet. And he continued to search for it, but in truth, he would never find it in his lifetime. "Let's just say, the murderer met his fate."

"Hey, let's all go get something to eat. I'm starving after that performance," Dick said.

Damian didn't know what else to say. He learned the truth about why his father took in an orphaned circus boy, but that still did not mean that Grayson was his brother. Learning about his grandparents from his father complicated what he had to decide on doing. He probably could kill Grayson and not bat an eye, but his father was another story. Even so, learning that Grayson and his father had a bond made things even more complicated. It would have been easier if he had just did it on the first day he arrived, but . . . now.

'Todd, this is all your fault. Why did you have to remind me of my obligation. Well, I just might decide to spoil your plans.'

Continues with Part 21

/

A/N: Reference to Grayson's performance for honoring his parents and the bouquet of roses came from the graphic novel Bloodborne and other references came from A Lonely Place to Die


	21. Chapter 21

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 21

The underworld was in a panic. Several men that have been known to work with the various mob bosses had gone missing. There were also rumors of a new leader trying to muscle in on everyone's territory. The man was said to be young and yet powerful. He had the moves a fighter and not above using whatever means he could to get what he wanted. Whispers said he once died but came back to life. He was a true vigilante, a vigilante that took the law into his own hands. And if you didn't play ball with him, you were taken out of the picture, for good. And the Batman wasn't about to let some upstart ruin his work.

"NO!" Tim screamed out in terror. It was a scream that was not unheard of before, but it was one that Tim had never experienced in his life, until now.

"Tim!" Bruce cradled his third son in his arms. Though he tried to comfort the boy, it didn't seem to be much help. Tim wasn't crying out for him, Tim was crying out for the father he lost a year ago. It reminded Bruce of when Dick was younger and he was just starting out as Robin. Dick had gone on his first solo patrol. Robin defeated the bad guys with ease. When he returned, he had come home beaten and bloody. Luckily the scratches were not as severe as Alfred feared, but they were numerous. Something had happened afterward. Alfred found him in the cave trembling, something that was uncharacteristic for his ward and protégé. Alfred couldn't even get the boy to talk about what happened, but later that night, after Bruce had returned home, Dick woke up screaming from a nightmare . . . a terror of such magnitude, it took Bruce holding the boy until morning before Dick would even talk about what happened. He hadn't slept the whole time Bruce had held him.

"I caught the mobsters napping," Dick said. "They didn't know what hit them."

"I bet," Bruce said. "You can be quite a dynamo."

"Thanks," Dick replied. "I was able to fool them into thinking you were there then hit them when they were distracted."

"So, what happened?" Bruce questioned. "Tell me where you got this," Bruce pointed to a large bruise that was on Dick's arm. There were other bruises hidden from view, bruises on his legs and on his back. There were also several small cuts and scratches."

"I . . . I didn't pay attention," Dick confessed. "I fell into a manhole."

"Well, we'll have to work on your awareness skills," Bruce said, thinking that Dick was done with his explanation, but that didn't explain why Dick woke up screaming. "Is that how you got all this bruising and the scratches?

"Something tried to grab me," Dick said. As he explained he became more agitated. "It was dark. I could feel its claws . . . and its breath . . . on the back of my neck. It tried to . . . take me into the sewers. I . . . fought it . . . I kicked it as hard as I could. I managed . . . oh please don't let it get me." Dick buried his face into Bruce's shirt.

Bruce later learned that the thing that tried to grab Robin was a man-like creature that had been living in the sewers. He called himself Killer Croc. The creature was a monster in every sense of the word. It was also cannibalistic. Robin had been lucky to escape with his life. The only reason he did was because where he kicked the creature, right between the eyes, temporarily blinding it. Bruce went after Killer Croc, but the creature later disappeared. He hoped they had seen the last of Killer Croc, but that had not been the case. Eventually, Batman caught Killer Croc and sent the creature to Arkham Asylum.

'Could Killer Croc had gotten out?' Bruce thought. Killer Croc though was not known for using a knife. He had his own set of razor sharp teeth and claws to contend with, and Tim had been stabbed, not scratched.

Bruce did his best to comfort the young man, despite the fact that he wasn't the boy's father. Technically he was, but this just seemed beyond his skills for the moment. He didn't know what to say to the young man, until he remembered something he would do for Dick. Bruce started to rub the young man's back.

"It's okay Tim," Bruce said quietly. "I . . . I'm here."

""D . . .D . . . Dad?" Tim said at first.

"It's Bruce."

Tim sobbed harder realizing that the person holding him wasn't his father, yet the arms were comforting just the same. Once Tim had cried himself out, Bruce figured he was able to tell him what happened.

"Tim? Can you tell me what happened?"

"It was the Red Helmet. He came out of nowhere."

"The Red Helmet?" Bruce questioned.

"I was patrolling the warehouse district. I thought I saw movement and I went to investigate. I didn't see anyone at first. Then something hit me from behind. Next thing I knew I was fighting for my life. He was good, Bruce, very good. He used some of my own moves against me, I thought I had him beat when I felt something. I felt my side and there was blood. I couldn't see the man's face. He was wearing a red helmet that covered his whole head. He said something really strange. There will be a next time replacement Boy Wonder. Just a taste to let you know when next we meet I won't stay my hand. Then he disappeared. I don't know how long I was lying there until Damian came."

"We'll find out who this Red Helmet is after you've recovered," Bruce said.

"You and I could find out," Damian said.

"Damian, how long were you there?"

"Long enough. I can go after this Red Hood and do what he did to Drake," Damian said. "It is fitting that he die for his crime."

"No, Damian," Bruce said. "You must not commit a crime to avenge another."

"It is not a crime, Father," Damian argued. "My grandfather would say it is fitting justice."

"No, I will not have you running around Gotham City. Killing is not justice, Damian. This Red Helmet will be caught and he will face his peers in a court of law." Bruce's eyes narrowed for a moment. 'Damian called the man Red HOOD, not helmet. He knows something, but what? I can't let him go out there and kill, even if he believes there is cause for it.'

Damian stormed off, disgusted that his father wouldn't see things his way. If only he had persuaded his father, he might then go after Todd, warn him, but . . . no, Todd had committed a crime. His father was right. He would face justice, just not the justice he would have wanted. Even so, he still had an obligation to his grandfather. And he still hadn't acted on that. It was as if he was trying to keep himself from acting on that objective. He kept thinking of his Mother's reason for dropping him off at Wayne Manor, to learn all he could about Bruce Wayne. If he killed his father, it would defeat that purpose. He was even finding Grayson to be helpful in that area. Just as he was thinking about Grayson, Dick came into the cave.

"I can help you with finding this Red Hood," Dick said.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Bruce asked

"I may not be ready to go out in the field just yet, but I can run a computer console. And I am a police officer. I can go into police headquarters and look at the files."

"You're a police officer in Bludhaven," Bruce reminded Dick. "And there might not be much information."

"You told my Captain that I would be gone for a month because of pneumonia. That doesn't mean I can't help. I can be placed on special assignment. Batman could request my aid."

"Wouldn't that look a bit suspicious? Batman requesting the aid of Dick Grayson, police officer of Bludhaven?"

"Perhaps you're right. But I can still do some research while you're out there patrolling."

"We don't have enough information, Dick," Bruce said. "Unless we hear more about this Red Hood, we can't do anything yet."

"What about checking with one of your snitches?" Dick suggested. "Maybe they might have heard something at least. They had to have heard about the attack on Tim."

"You're right," Bruce realized. 'Why hadn't I thought of that.' Moving over to the makeup table, Bruce sat down and began working on changing his appearance.

"Matches Malone?" Dick said.

"No, Matches Malone died remember."

"Oh yeah. Then who?"

"Someone no one will suspect." Bruce replied. 'I hadn't used this character for a few years. He's going to be my way in. Joe Sands can get into areas even Matches Malone wasn't able to. The real Sands was in prison. At least he won't be showing up any time soon.' Bruce finished putting on his makeup. "Don't wait up for me. I'll be very late."

"What about Damian?" Dick said.

"Make sure he gets to bed and stays there. I don't want a repeat from last time."

"Sure Bruce. I'll make sure Damian stays put."

After Bruce was finished with his disguise he went to the back of the cave that led to a special garage. He picked a car that for all intended purposes looked like it was on its last legs. He then drove out of the cave and headed for Gotham City.

Continues with Part 22


	22. Chapter 22

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 22

Joe Sanders headed to a bar that he knew was frequented by several former convicts looking to make some extra cash. When he arrived he spied several faces that as Batman, he had taken down a few times. They were repeat offenders who just couldn't keep their hands out of the cookie jar. Joe Sanders made his way to the bar and sat near the end, not far where there were three men gathered in a group. He could hear them whispering to each other. Keeping his head down, he didn't want to appear like he was listening in on their conversation. In his right ear he placed an ear-piece similar to the one that Tim had used to overhear Ra's al Ghul's plans.

"What will it be?"

"Scotch and soda," Joe stated.

Bruce Wayne didn't drink, but if he ordered orange juice in this kind of bar, it would look suspicious. He needed to keep up appearances. Joe Sanders had been a heavy drinker. Sander's choice of drink had always been a scotch with soda. Just in case someone in this bar knew who Sanders was, it was best to keep up appearances until he came up with any leads. At least the universal drug antidote would keep his system clear of alcohol if he found himself bar hopping just to get information. Luckily, he didn't have to do that. The conversation between the three men came in loud and clear. He recognized every one of the three men. They worked for some of the drug dealers in Gotham City. Trigger Burns, who's specialty was high-powered rifles, Tom Willard, he liked the ladies, but he liked kids more. And Migel Sanchos, one of Chichi's best dealers. Sanders could not help noticing that Migel Sanchos was looking a bit pale and drinking up a storm.

"Hey Willard, did you hear about Chester Banks, Chichi's right hand man. He's disappeared," Trigger Burns stated.

"Yeah, I heard that your boss, Tyler Bronson lost a couple of people as well. You know anything about that?"

"Is that right Trigger, did Bronson lose a couple of people?"

"I ain't saying," Trigger replied. "What about you Willard? I heard Redding also lost a couple of people."

"If he did he hasn't said anything to me."

A fourth man came in next to the three. He ordered what looked like whisky and swallowed it down. Then he ordered another.

"You're pretty quiet Crogan," Trigger stated to the new man. "Heard anything from your boss?"

Mike Crogan turned to face each of the men. "Look, all I hear is what everyone else is saying. There's a new guy in town. He's getting together all the drug dealing bosses, yours, mine, and anyone else that's out there."

"Well who is this guy?"

"He's new, no one knows where he came from. Calls himself the Red Hood."

"Do you know where they're meeting?"

"Nope," Crogan answers. "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you guys. What I do know is that this Red Hood means business."

"How do you know?" Willard asked.

Crogan took a long swig of his drink. "Let's just say what I saw, makes me rethink about my position."

"What did you see?" Trigger asked.

"You don't want to know," Crogan replied. "I barely got out of there with my life. He could be coming after you, Willard. You are one of Redding's right hand men. You take care of his distribution down in the Narrows. I'd watch your back if I were you."

"Whoever this Red Hood guy is, he don't scare me," Willard replied.

Joe Sanders was about to pay for his drink when Mike Crogan said something else.

"I heard the Red Hood went after Batman's pal, Robin. Left him for dead."

"Are you sure about that?" Willard asked.

"If the Red Hood can take out someone like Robin, he might be able to take care of our BAT problem as well." Trigger stated.

"I do not like it."

"I ain't complaining. That's one less of them to worry about."

Joe Sanders paid for his drink and left. He climbed into his car and started the engine. 'So there's a new guy in town setting up a meeting with all the drug dealers. Too bad they weren't able to divulge the location. I may have to find it another way. Tim was right, but why would this Red Hood attack Tim?'

Joe reached up and removed the putty from his face. Soon Bruce Wayne was the one sitting at the wheel of the broken down wreck of a car. There was one question he had to ask, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

How did Damian know that the man's moniker was the Red Hood?

Continues with Part 23

A/N: This part was a little shorter. I wanted to give Brue a chance to do the undercover work here. In the older comics Bruce would often go in disguise and try to find out information about a particular gang. One of his disguises was Matches Malone.


	23. Chapter 23

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 23

Bruce went out again the next night, trying to find out more information about the Red Hood. He was like a ghost. No one knew where he came from or who he was under that red helmet he wore, but there was one thing he did learn, he had the drug dealing community in a panic. Two more lieutenants disappeared without a trace. Even though the Gotham Police said they were looking into the disappearances they didn't seem to be putting in much effort. They seemed to be more interested in solving the latest string of murders that were happening on the West Side. Bruce had to choose which crimes he was going to look into. With Dick on the mend, he looking forward to finally stretching his "wings." Tim would still be out of commission for some time from the loss of blood from his stab wound.

Bruce was also aware that something was bothering his youngest son. Damian was moody and he seemed to have this dark cloud hanging over his head. Bruce could tell that something was troubling the boy. Since he hadn't really spent a whole lot of time with his youngest, Bruce decided to take him for a leisurely drive then a walk in Gotham Central Park. Hopefully, the leisurely environment might help the boy to open up. It often worked for Dick when his ward felt troubled. Eventually, Dick would open up and tell him what was on his mind. Bruce hoped that it would be the same with Damian.

"Father, where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," Bruce answered. "I thought we needed a change of venue. It gets stuffy being cooped up in the house all day."

"I would rather be practicing my forms," Damian said.

"You can practice those when you return," Bruce replied.

"Tt."

"Damian, scoffing at a simple drive in the fresh air isn't going to kill you. And staying mad at me won't resolve whatever issue you may have. Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"You know what is bothering me, Father."

Bruce knew, but he wanted his son to say the words.

"If it is about what I did, Grayson forgave me, why can't you?"

"It's not that simple Damian," Bruce said.

"And what about Drake? You think I was the one that hurt him."

"I know that you didn't," Bruce replied. "But you wanted to do harm to the person that did. You also disobeyed a direct order. I cannot over look that I see a lot of anger in you. The anger that you are feeling, I've felt as well. It would not be right to take that anger out by doing harm to others."

"But does not Batman do harm to others?"

"Batman stops those who would commit crimes."

"But you do not kill them."

"No," Bruce said.

"Why not? They've committed a crime, a sin against others. Grandfather says that those who commit such grievous sins should not be given a chance to do those sins ever again."

"What about seeking forgiveness?" Bruce asked his son. "Your grandfather looks upon all of Gotham City as a place that must be destroyed because all he sees is the crime."

"Don't you see that?"

"No, Damian I do not. There are a lot of good people in Gotham, and I would protect the good. Many who commit crimes do so out of desperation. Some realize their mistake and try to turn over a new leaf and become productive citizens. They will even ask forgiveness for the crime they have committed."

"So, what happens to them?"

"They serve a certain amount of time in jail, and when they are released, some do go out and change their lives. If every person who commits a crime is put to death for that crime no matter how petty or grand, then what does it say about having mercy?"

Damian couldn't argue with what his father was saying. He had been taught that compassion and mercy were for the weak, but his father talks as if they were a strength; something to strive for. Confusion reigned even more.

Silence filled the car one more time. Bruce drove the car to Gotham Central Park. After parking the vehicle, they exited the car and began walking. Damian observed the various activities that were going on. There were children playing games, adults having picnics, a few riding skateboards, a large group was playing some kind of sport with an unusual looking ball. Some were chasing the one with the ball while others were trying to defend. It almost looked like some kind of battle.

"Father, what is that group of people are doing over there?"

"They are playing a game called football."

"Strange, I have not seen anything like that. It almost looks like they are fighting a battle."

"In a way they are. It is a contest between two teams. The team who can score the most points wins."

"Why don't the others defending take out those that are attacking?" Damian asked.

"It is a competition, not an actual battle. It is a sport. It is played for enjoyment and fun. No one is supposed to get hurt."

"Is it for training?"

"No, football is a game, but people do train to play the game. It takes certain skills to play."

"There is a lot that I do not know about your world," Damian admitted.

"Look over here," Bruce coaxed his son over to where they could see some children closer to Damian's age playing in a different field. They were playing a game of little league baseball. "These are children your age, Damian. They are playing a different game."

Damian watched for a moment then frowned. "I do not see any value in this. There is no battle between them."

"The game is called Baseball and the two teams are also trying to get the highest score by trying to run the bases without getting tagged. If the ball is caught while the player is running to the bases, the player is out for that inning."

Damian looked back at the football game then at the baseball game. He decided he liked football better. Baseball just did not look like a very interesting game to him. At least football resembled a battle between two warring opponents. That he understood more.

"HELP! THIEF! HE'S GOT MY PURSE!"

Bruce and Damian both looked up to see someone running. A woman was chasing after a young man on a skateboard. He snatched the woman's purse and was trying to get away. Suddenly, Damian took off after the person.

"DAMIAN!"

Damian grabbed someone else's skateboard and chased after the thief.

"Hey, that's my skateboard!"

Bruce ran up and handed the young man a wad of cash. "That should take care of your loss," he said as he ran after his son.

"Damian, come back!"

Damian used the skateboard like an expert. He maneuvered through the crowd and followed the thief. When he wasn't able to use the board any longer, he took to the trees and leapt from branch to branch. When he got close he dove at the thief landing on his back and knocking him to the ground.

"That does not belong to you," Damian said. "GIVE IT BACK OR ELSE . . ."

"Or else what half pint," the thief said and tried to punch Damian in the face.

Damian grabbed the thief's arm and turned it into a chin na* nearly breaking the thief's arm. The thief cried out.

"HEY LET GO!"

"DROP THE PURSE!"

"What is going on here," an officer came on the scene.

"This kid attacked me out of nowhere," the thief stated, trying to make Damian out to be the bad guy.

"And this creep stole a lady's purse."

"Is that so? Why don't I take you both down to the station and we can talk about this."

"Officer, that man stole my purse," the lady ran up.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, he came up behind me and snatched it right out of my arms."

"What about this kid?"

"He's my son," Bruce ran up. "He went after the thief. I tried to stop him. Damian, you could have been hurt. What if that thief had a gun?"

"He did not," Damian argued, his eyes narrowing. Why was his father acting like a weakling? Why didn't he behave like Batman?

"You shouldn't go after a thief young man, your father is right," sated the Officer. "The man could have had a gun. You could have been hurt."

"Are you going to take the man to be executed?" Damian asked.

"What?!" the officer looked at Damian then laughed at his statement. "I think you've been watching too many violent movies kid. He'll be taken to jail to serve time, if the lady presses charges. We've been having a rash of purse snatchings in the park. At least we may have caught one of the gang."

"Yes Officer, I do want to press charges, I'll come down to the station and make a statement. But first I want to give this boy something."

The woman knelt down, opened her purse and pulled out a five-dollar bill. "Here you go, young man. You deserve a reward for stopping that thief. You and your father can get some ice cream that way."

Damian had a look of confusion on his face. The woman placed the bill in his hand then gave him a kiss on the cheek. No one had ever shown him such kindness, not since before his nanny died. Damian placed his hand on his cheek and watched the woman walk away. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder and heard him say . . ."Good job, Damian, but we'll talk later about when is the proper time to act."

Continues with Part 24

A/N: Chin Na means join lock. It is a form of defense in Kung Fu where you get your opponent into a hold or you break a hold that someone has you in, such as a bear hug. There are four types of bear hugs and a different defense against each bear hug in turn. As part of Damian's training and even Batman and Robin's training, they would have learned martial arts.

I needed to have Bruce and Damian together for a little while to have Bruce explain a little more about life in Gotham City and about the differences between Batman and Ra's al Ghul. It's looking more and more like Damian isn't going to be following Ra's al Ghul's objective to kill Grayson and his father. As for the Red Hood, though he has shown up in Gotham, it's not time for him to confront Batman. So, I don't know when that will happen if it does in this story. Depends on what my muse wants to do. Looks like it's going to be longer than I thought.


	24. Chapter 24

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 24

Dick Grayson went through his paces, practicing not only his defensive moves, but practicing whatever acrobatic move he could make. When Dick came to live with Bruce Wayne, his guardian at the time set up a trapeze in the bat cave in the practice area. There were mats, a punching bag, parallel bars, as well as a set of free weights and kettle bells. Bruce had a fully set up gymnasium that would rival any sports and health club. Not only that, he built a pool that contained a lap pool and a diving area. Not to mention some of the equipment was also up in the manor so no one would miss a workout, and when Bruce had social obligations such as a party, sometimes Alfred would set the venue for that party and whatever space was available, that space would be used.

Right now, Dick Grayson was down in the bat cave performing his old routine on the trapeze as well as practicing whatever he required to get himself back in shape. Luckily there was little muscle damage from the oleander poisoning. It was more directed at his gut and his vision than any other part of his body.

'Bruce will be happy about that,' he thought. 'I'll just need to get cleared by Leslie so I can go back on patrol.'

Dick did one more round on the trapeze adjusting his flips so he could catch the other trapeze without the need for a catcher. Luckily the two bars were closer together than they normally would be in a regular circus setting. It was two days since he and Bruce went out to his parents' grave and to the circus to honor their memories.

'I'm glad Bruce was there,' he thought. 'I don't know why, but lately I have felt that I really need to be here. I know I should go back to Bludhaven, but something is telling me that I need to stick close to home. Just a feeling.'

Dick remembered when he was a little boy and when he had such feelings, they always ended up letting him know that something important was about to happen. He had that strange feeling a day or two before his parents' deaths. He couldn't put his finger on what it meant then. And this feeling that he had today seemed to centered around Damian.

'Something is really bothering the kid,' Dick said. 'It's as if he's terrified about making a mistake or having to make a decision that would affect him for a very long time.'

"I think Ra's al Ghul wants Damian to kill us all," a familiar voice stated.

"What? Tim? What are you doing out of bed?" Dick asked. "And how could you tell what I was thinking?"

"Because you had a very serious look on your face just now and I know when you get that look, you're close to figuring out just what's bothering you or someone."

"You're very good at reading people," Dick commented.

"Well, I was trained by the best," Tim smiled. "You on the other hand know how to read one person better than the rest since you lived with him."

They both knew whom they were referring to.

"Well, that's true. In order to really know what he's thinking, you have to look at his eyes, and the skin around his mouth. Those two areas will give you clues into what he's thinking."

"What about when he's wearing the cowl?" Tim asked. "You know he keeps those blasted lenses over his eyes most of the time."

"Then you look at the corners of his mouth. No matter how hard he tries to hide his emotions, there will always be a slight noticeable change on one side," Dick said. "Batman really isn't the cold hard bastard that everyone seems to think he is. He's that way only because he doesn't want to give anything away as to what he's really feeling. If the criminals knew just how much he cares, they could take advantage of that."

"Boy, you do know him," Tim said impressed. "And have they taken advantage?"

Dick recalled several instances where criminals did. The last time was when Jason was killed.

'Poor Jason,' Dick thought. 'He tried so hard, but whenever I was around him, he always seemed angry and resentful of my presence. After his death, Bruce didn't want to allow anyone else to see him that vulnerable, even me,' Dick thought. "Let's just say there have been several times, but when the criminals tried to take advantage, they regretted it. There's nothing like an enraged Batman."

"Speaking of which, where is Bruce?" Tim asked.

"He and Damian went out. I think Bruce is trying to learn what's bothering him."

"Good luck with that. From what little I know and have seen of the kid, he seems to have Bruce's stubborn streak."

"Perhaps, but he's still just a kid," Dick pointed out. "From what Bruce told me about him, Damian hadn't had much of a childhood. Seems to me, his Mother and his Grandfather obsessed over him to train him as an assassin."

"Are you sure?" Tim asked his face going pale. The thought had Tim suddenly feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

Dick was suddenly there, grabbing onto the 17-year-old and helping him to sit down. "Hey take it easy, you lost a lot of blood. It's going to take a while before your stamina is recovered. You look even paler than when you first came in here. Did I say something to . . ."

"Dick, the person who attacked me . . . I think he had been trained by Ra's al Ghul."

"WHAT? How do you know?"

"Bruce told me to find out what I could about Ra's al Ghul's plans. Not only that, learning that the sword came from him as well as the oil laced with oleander nectar I thought I could find the antidote."

"You did, Bruce told me."

"There was more," Tim stated. "I overheard Ra's al Ghul plotting to kill all of us. And when I went to find the antidote, I saw someone in his training room, similar to this space," Tim waved his hand around to indicate the workout room they were in. "The guy had his back to me. Talia not only was talking to him, she acted as if he was her lover. Not only that, I saw on a bench there was a red helmet."

"Are you sure?" Dick questioned Tim.

"Dick I swear," Tim said. "I think the man who attacked me was the same man I saw at Ra's al Ghul's stronghold. And Talia was caressing him."

"Holy broken heart," Dick said softly. It reminded him of the time when Bruce fell for a woman whom he thought was a Russian journalist. It turned out she was Catwoman. He hadn't seen Bruce so heart broken like that before. Dick remembered there were a few women who entered Bruce's life that ended in tragedy. Bruce had high hopes that Talia would one day leave her life behind, but it would seem she still didn't want to, and now it also appeared she has rejected Bruce for this guy in a red helmet.

'All because Bruce won't compromise on his principles.," Dick thought. 'Being a crime fighter does have its advantages and then again it also has its own problems as well. It can be pretty lonely, not being able to share it with a good woman.'

Dick's thoughts went to Barbara Gordon. That road was also filled with bumps. They did try at one time, but their relationship ended in sorrow. All Barbara wanted was just to be friends, like they had been when Dick was between 15 and 16.

'I know she's at least six years older than me, but why can't she see that I still love her.'

"Dick," Tim got his older brother's attention. "Do you think we should tell Bruce?"

"I think we should tell Bruce about the guy in the red helmet being trained by Ra's al Ghul. With that piece of information we might be able to find out who the guy is, and then we can deal with him."

"But not about Talia," Tim stated.

"No. I don't think Bruce needs to have that added pain to deal with. It will only complicate things."

"You know, I always admired how you used to watch Batman's back, but I can still see even as Nightwing you would still watch his back."

"Tim, unlike you, I took an oath in this very cave with just a lighted candle and Batman and I standing around that candle. I swore to fight crime and corruption and to stay on the path of righteousness. And in my own mind, I also swore to watch his back, no matter what happens. See, without me, and even you, Batman would not be able to do the things that he's done. He's come close to dying even. And I've been there to pick him up and take him home. Sometimes he forgets that. Or maybe he doesn't and all he wants to do is keep either one of us from dying on his watch. I told him once that I would die for him. And I mean every word."

"That's a very large oath to live up to," Tim stated. "I don't know if I could."

"Oh I think you can. You're proving yourself to be one of the best Robins so far. Who knows, you might even out last me," Dick smiled. "But don't let it go to your head. Come on. I better get you tucked back into bed. Alfred will kill us both if he sees you and I talking like this."

"Will you be going on patrol?"

"Not tonight. I think I'll do a little reading, you never know just what you'll turn up."

Continues on Part 25

A/N: Reference: Batman The Movie (1966).

Someone said there needed to be more Dick. So, I wrote this piece. I figured Dick was on the mend and he and Tim hadn't talked much and this was a way for them to get together. It gives insight into Dick and Tim's relationship. I see them as having become close friends, especially during the time when Dick had to step in and be Batman when Bruce left for a time.

Tim still admires the original Batman and Robin team. He admires Dick Grayson because he's succeeded in not only being Robin but also becoming his own man. I think Tim would like to be like Dick.

Jason had been more jealous of Dick, because I think Batman was more critical of Jason. Jason didn't have any skills other than thievery in order to survive. And learning about Dick in Jason's mind, he created a competition for himself to try to out do him. I think there's another story in there somewhere.


	25. Chapter 25

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 25

Before Dick sat down at the computer to do some research, he turned toward Tim once more.

"You know, you shouldn't sell yourself short," Dick said. "You've done some incredible things as Robin, including getting the antidote to save my life. You may even end up being a better Robin than I was at times. At least you and Bruce don't argue the way we do sometimes."

"I'm just a friend and it's my job to be his partner. Though he adopted me, I don't think I'll ever really see him as my father. I'm getting too old for that. Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate what Bruce has done. He gave me a home that I probably would have never had as good a home as here. My parents were on the same social plane as Bruce as you know, and if anyone else had adopted me, they probably would have taken advantage of that. Bruce hasn't. In fact, he's kept everything that was in my father's name separate and put my name on everything. I own it out right."

"Well, I wouldn't know anything about that," Dick said. "My parents never really had much money, even when the circus was doing well. They managed to save enough to buy a small house in Florida, which I do own, but that's about it. When I lost my parents everything that I owned I could fit in one suitcase and I did. All the other stuff came from Bruce. I never did apologize for what I said when you first came here."

"Oh don't worry about it," Tim said. "You were right. I didn't know everything back then, and I still don't but I am learning. So, what are you researching?"

Dick turned back to the computer and started typing in the parameters he knew and speculated on others that he wasn't sure on.

"One question, did you manage to get any DNA evidence from the Red Hood while you were fighting?"

"No," Tim replied. "He was well covered up. I didn't even get a chance to get a recording of his voice print."

"That means he was fast and well trained. He acted quickly without hesitating," Dick pointed out. "We've been trained to do the same. Do you remember anything else? Any physical characteristics?"

"Well, I'd say he was about your height, about 5' 10." I'm 5' 8," He really wasn't that far off of my height, yet he nearly got the best of me."

"He only got the best of you because he cheated. He used a knife," Dick pointed out.

"But why didn't he just kill me?" Tim asked.

"I think because it was the only way he could actually stop you, plus he was interrupted. He might have heard Damian approach. He could only do one thing and that was stab you so you wouldn't follow him. There may be another opportunity."

"Oh great, just what I need my own arch enemy."

"Any other characteristics," Dick asked.

"Yeah, he had reddish blond hair and what looked like a white streak running through it. He also didn't look any older than me. He was well built. And in the light I could see he had several small scars all over his arms, like he had been in some kind of battle."

"Well, without you seeing his face, that's not much to go on," Dick said. "I'll run this through the computer. You better get some sleep. Bruce and Damian should be coming back soon."

"I suggest both of you get some sleep," Alfred said behind Dick. "You may be free of the oleander poison Master Richard, but you still need to get as much rest as you can. You are also due to see Dr. Leslie tomorrow. Master Bruce will want to drive you."

"I can drive myself," Dick said.

"You know Master Bruce would not approve. He wants to hear the report himself, not read it from a sheet of paper."

"Okay, I'll let him take me to see Leslie. No matter how much I've tried to tell him I'm no longer a child, he still treats me like one."

"You know he does that because he cares for you, Master Richard."

"I just wish he'd see the man, not the kid that I once was."

Tim clapped Dick on the back. "You know Bruce is always going to see you as that kid. I know for a fact that he's proud of you. He tells me every time he hears what you've been doing as Nightwing."

Dick couldn't help feel humbled, but at the same time he could not help but recall Jason as well. 'If I'm Bruce's greatest triumph, Jason is Bruce's worst failure. I wasn't happy at first when Tim came to us, now I can't help but feel grateful. He's proven himself as Robin, but Bruce is still stuck in that dark place sometimes.'

"Master Timothy," Alfred started. "You must return to the medical bay. You are not strong enough to be up and about like this."

"I'm getting sick and tired of being down here. Can't I at least go up to my room? I promise to stay in bed at least for a few days. It will give me a chance to get caught up on my reading."

Alfred placed a hand on Tim's forehead to check for fever. He did feel warm, but not as much as before. "All right Master Timothy. You may go up to your room. I shall bring both of you something to eat."

"I can't go up right now, Alfred," Dick said. "I'm trying to do some research on this Red Hood business. Bruce doesn't know I'm doing it, but I'm sure he can use all the help he can get."

"Dick, wait a minute, I remember something else. Before the Red Hood left me for dead, he said there would be another time for us . . . He . . . called me replacement."

"Replacement, that's a curious thing to say."

"Master Timothy . . ." Alfred stated.

"I better get upstairs," Tim said. "I am feeling kind of light headed again."

"Well then you better go before Alfred has to carry you upstairs. Thanks."

Dick sat at the computer staring at the screen and not getting anywhere fast. Tim's statement was stuck in his head. Why would the man call Tim Replacement? Dick wrote everything down so he could see what he was dealing with more clearly. Then something dawned on him that he wasn't ready to believe. A hypothesis was forming in his mind, but it would require a drastic measure that Bruce would certainly not approve, certainly not without his consent. It was a violation that would have reaching consequences, but if he was right, it would be the ultimate in plot twists that neither of them would have dreamed. And Bruce most of all, with his view on the issue would be totally appalled and yet elated. No, not yet. He must not deal in speculation. He had to get evidence. And in order to do that, he had to think about whom he was dealing with. Making up his mind, he knew that what he was about to do would land him in hot water, both with Bruce and Alfred, but he needed to know for certain.

Dick Grayson moved to the uniform vault and grabbed his Nightwing gear. He looked at the clock and realized that Bruce and Damian had been gone all day and it would soon be night. He couldn't wait for the cover of darkness. He had to leave while he still could. Dick put on his Nightwing uniform, grabbed his eskrima sticks and placed them on his back, then walked over to his motorcycle and put on his helmet. He checked his equipment pockets for the miniature camera that he carried, then mounted his motorcycle and sped down the tunnel leading out of the bat cave and out to the road leading to Gotham City. He knew where he needed to go. He recalled the story about the batmobile and how Batman found that someone had expertly removed the tires, and that's where he needed to start from in order to prove his hypothesis. He needed to go back to the place where it began. He needed to go to Crime Alley.

Continues with Part 26


	26. Chapter 26

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 26

Nightwing stopped at the edge of Gotham City in a grove of trees. He wanted to go into the city under the cover of darkness. He also wanted to be certain that if Bruce came along this road, which he was sure to do, that he would not be seen. Nightwing sat for a moment studying his options. If the person he suspected was whom he thought, Nightwing might have to take that person down and turn them into the law for assault, even attempted murder of Robin. He wasn't looking forward to it. He would do it just the same, but he first wanted to verify his suspicions then try to find out what his game was before anyone else got hurt.

Nightwing looked at his chronometer on his bike. He had another hour to wait. He reviewed what he knew from Tim. Plus, he also recalled Damian's experience. Something was troubling the boy, ever since he found Tim. Damian was much like Bruce. He kept things more to himself and tried to give the appearance that he didn't care, but Dick could see that the boy did even though he tried to hide it. It was in the subtle way he moved and held his body. It was the way his eyes would look at you without you knowing. Those were the same expressions that Bruce held, and Dick should know. He learned to read him long ago, because he recognized it in himself. Damian needed, craved love, but he did not know how to ask for it.

'Damian must not have had a loving home life. His short life must have been filled with darkness,' Nightwing thought. He recalled something from his own past, something that Alfred had said to him.

"You have been a light in this house, Master Richard. Without you I swear Master Bruce would eventually kill himself from the strain."

"I don't understand?" Dick questioned.

"Master Bruce's parents were murdered just as your parents were, but he did not have someone to guide him through the worst of it."

"He had you," Dick stated.

"Yes, but he needed someone who could understand his plight. That is why I am grateful you have come along to help him through his worst moods."

Nightwing reflected on those times. When he was growing up in the Manor, it seemed Bruce's moods had lightened, at least that's what Alfred had said, but when he moved out something happened to change that.

'Yeah, a fat lot of good that did at one time. He still goes through them,' Dick thought recalling more than he wanted to think about. 'Now I'm starting to get moody. The sun is almost completely down. Better get into Gotham and to Crime Alley. Need to get into position and simply wait this out.'

Nightwing revved the engine of his motorcycle and headed further into Gotham and into Crime Alley. He first went directly there to check for any vehicles parked outside the one particular apartment building he believed the suspect would be located. He didn't see anything, but that did not mean there wasn't one. Going over to the neighborhood clinic that was ran by Dr. Leslie Tompkins, Nightwing parked his motorcycle out back behind the building and behind a dumpster so it was out of sight. He then used his grappling hook and climbed up to the top of the roof. He made his way back to the apartment building, this time watching it from across the street. He didn't see any activity at first. It was dark and quiet as a tomb. He had to concede that it was still early and he was going to have to hunker down and wait.

Staking out a place in the past had not been his strong suit. He had since learned patience and learned to observe with a discerning eye. Though stakeouts could be tedious and long, sometimes old fashion patience would pay off. And sure enough it did. Someone moved across the street, turning on a light. The bare bulb showed the figure in shadow. Nightwing lifted the camera with its telephoto lens up to his eyes to see what he could see. The figure was tall and that's when he knew something was wrong. Some sixth sense told him to move when something slammed into the concrete beside him.

"Nice moves golden boy. Care for two out of three?"

Nightwing recognized the figure that stood in front of him from Tim's description.

"What's your game Red," Nightwing questioned. "You know, attempted murder is an offence that will get you at least 20 years."

"Actually, I was hoping someone else would figure it out."

"Who's to say he hasn't."

"I'm disappointed, the demon child should have done his work by now."

Nightwing's eye's narrowed. He had only heard one person called a demon before and that was Ra's al Ghul. Could this guy mean Damian?"

"What does the Wayne kid have to do with this?"

"He was supposed to kill you and his father. Apparently he decided not to. Too bad. That would have made his training complete and then he would become Ra's al Ghul's heir. Looks like he's going to be very disappointed."

So, that's what was troubling the boy. 'He was supposed to kill Bruce and I,' Nightwing thought. Something must have happened to change his mind. "I think you underestimated him. He's a Wayne, just like his father. He knows that killing isn't the way, unlike you."

"I didn't kill the replacement, but I could have."

"Why didn't you?"

"Don't play dumb with me golden boy, you both know who I am. You wouldn't be here if you didn't know."

"So why are you doing this . . . Todd," Nightwing questioned.

"So, you really do know who I am."

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Nightwing stated. "Tim 'replaced' you after you died. So, what was it like being raised from the dead."

"You have no idea," Jason Todd replied then swiftly kicked out. He had worked his way closer toward Nightwing, hoping to catch him off guard, but Nightwing was prepared. He reached out and grabbed Todd's leg and pushed him back causing Todd to lose his balance. Todd tried to flip, but he couldn't quite make the move and he landed on his knees. Nightwing waited for him to get up, not pressing his advantage. That's where they differed considerably. Nightwing was all about playing fair, even in a fight. Todd's philosophy was different. Take the enemy out, regardless whether it was fair or not.

Todd grabbed a handful of loose gravel and threw it into Nightwing's face temporarily blinding him.

"That's what you get for not pressing your advantage golden boy," Red Hood stated then slammed both his fists into Nightwing's jaw. Dick was thrown back and he nearly found himself falling out into space, but instead he landed hard on his side against the concrete edge of the building. It was enough to leave him dazed and momentarily shaken. He shook his head to clear it and saw two boots standing very close to him. Then he heard the pop of a silencer and a dart was injected into his shoulder.

"I don't have any quarrel with you," Jason said, "But how else am I going to get his attention. And don't try to fight it. It will only act faster."

"Why?" Nightwing asked.

As the drug worked its way through Nightwing's system, he could barely understand what Jason was saying.

"I thought I wanted Bruce dead for not saving me, but now . . . what I want is Bruce to kill the one person who killed me. That will be my revenge, to have Batman kill the Joker. It will end there."

"You know . . . You know he . . . won't do it."

"Well you see that's the problem. If he doesn't then he won't be able to save you. And I lied. I do have a beef with you. Your shadow kept getting in the way when it came to Bruce. I should have been his first Robin and only Robin. But you just had to come before me. You were the golden boy, the one to have to live up to. And I wasn't lying when I said that Bruce would have to kill the Joker before he saves you. Because if he doesn't, he'll be picking up the pieces of his first Robin with a tweezers."

NIghtwing's vision began to swim and soon darkness took him carrying him away into the arms of Morpheus.

Continues with Part 27


	27. Chapter 27

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 27

Nightwing suddenly felt cold. There was a stiff wind that was blowing and he seemed to be . . . Swinging? Nightwing opened his eyes to find that he was hanging upside down, suspended from a cable that was attached to the arm of a crane on top of the tallest building in Gotham City, the Wayne Enterprise Tower. His arms were pinned to his sides with the very cable that he used in his grappling hook. His legs were lashed together as well.

'Holy Houdini,' he thought. He hadn't done one of those signature exclamations in a very long time, but for some reason it felt appropriate for the situation. It reminded him of when he was between 15 and 16 years old and the Bookworm strapped him to the clapper of the bell in the Thomas Wayne Memorial Clock Tower. This time, however, he was totally suspended in the open air.

Nightwing tried to bend his body to work the cable loose, but he was bound so tight, he could barely move. It seemed Jason had done his work well, but he didn't know how Jason managed to get him in this position. Jason had to have help. Rumors from the underworld had hinted that a new mob boss was trying to take over the drug cartel. Descriptions of the guy fit Jason to a "T." It wouldn't be hard for someone like Jason, who had just as persuasive a personality as other villains to gather a gang around him. Nightwing had met several over the years, including his years as Robin. And that gang would certainly want to take advantage of one of Gotham's heroes. Technically, Nightwing wasn't in Gotham City any more, but he would aid Batman sometimes, and those who were observant would figure that he was the former Robin, all grown up.

Nightwing continued to struggle to try to work the cable loose until he heard the soft sound of ticking. He managed to look up and see a small explosive device attached to the cable just above his feet. It had a timer, and it was counting down.

/

When Bruce and Damian finally arrived back home, it was well after dark. The police at the station kept them there to explain their part in the purse snatching. They wanted to hear Damian's account on how he caught the thief. They were amazed that a ten-year-old kid would risk his life for a woman's purse, but what they wanted to know about was whether there were more people involved. Damian in his attempt to stop the guy did point out that the older kid had a tattoo that was very unusual. The police had Damian sit through several books showing tattoos that gang members had, but he couldn't find the tattoo in any of the files that the police had. Damian even drew a pretty accurate picture. Bruce filed the image in his head. For some reason, it felt familiar to him, but he couldn't place it just then. And even if he did remember, Bruce wasn't about to disclose how he knew because it would draw suspicion toward him with regarding a certain Dark Knight of Gotham.

Arriving home, Damian was quick to point out something that he kept to himself while they were in public.

"You recognized the tattoo," Damian stated.

'You noticed," Bruce was impressed by his son's observation skills.

"It was in your eyes and how you held your head."

"Very observant and yes, the tattoo looked familiar to me. I was trying to place it."

"Will you go down to the bat cave and use the computer?"

"I might, and if I find any leads, I will pass them onto the police."

Damian's eyes narrowed at that. "Why go to the police? Shouldn't Batman take care of it?"

"If it's worth Batman's time, but usually petty crimes like purse snatchings are taken care of by the local law enforcement."

"But you do not think this is a petty crime."

"No, I do not. It is possibly part of a larger group. Purse snatchings might be just one of the things this gang might be into. I won't know until I run a scan on the tattoo and see what I can come up with. The tattoo is unusual. It might not even be local. That's where research comes in handy."

"Father?"

"Yes, Damian?"

"Um . . . nothing. I think I will retire for the night."

"Master Damian," Alfred came in at that moment. "This note came for you."

"It might be from my Mother," Damian stated. "She might be wondering how I am getting along." Damian took the note, but when he saw the handwriting on the front, he didn't recognize it as his mother's. Suddenly, he was filled with dread and didn't want to open it in front of anyone else. "I think I'll take it up to my room."

Bruce watched Damian head to his room while he went to the bat cave.

"How's Tim doing?" Bruce asked.

"He is getting better. Though he will be weak for some time until he can recover from the blood loss."

"What about Dick?"

"Master Richard had actually worked out today. Though still somewhat unsteady, he will improve quickly."

"Are both of them asleep?"

"I believe so, Sir," Alfred said. "I checked on Tim and he was asleep. I moved him up to his room. I thought it was time."

"And Dick?"

"I had not checked on him yet when that message arrived for Master Damian. I was about to, Sir."

"Good. I want to do some research. I may have a lead on this Red Hood case."

"Very good, Sir. Shall I bring you something to eat since you and Damian both missed dinner?"

"You can give Damian something. I'm sure he's hungry. Just bring me some coffee."

Bruce moved to the study, this time taking the bat pole down rather than the secret stairs. For some reason he was feeling somewhat nostalgic. He went over to the computer and noticed something written on the screen.

'Tim must have been working on something as well,' he thought then realized Tim hadn't been at the computer since before he was found by Damian. 'Maybe Dick was researching something.'

Bruce started to read what was on the screen when Alfred came down with a pot of coffee and a troubled look on his face.

"Master Bruce," Alfred started. "It's Master Richard, he's not in his room."

"What?" Bruce looked around then noticed two things out of place. The uniform vault was open and Dick's motorcycle was missing. He reread what had been put up on the screen then read the final line. It can't be.

Suddenly the computer screen went blank then an image formed, becoming clearer as the resolution resolved itself. The tray Alfred held clattered to the floor behind Bruce as both recognized whom it was they were seeing.

"MASTER RICHARD!"

"You want to see Golden Boy alive again, you have to do one thing. Kill the Robin Killer. Otherwise you will see for yourself whether a former Robin can fly when his wings are clipped. According to the timer on that bomb strapped near his feet, you have less than 6 hours. And if you fail, you'll get your answer."

Continues with Part 28


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Had to make some minor corrections and add some references.

/

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 28

Nightwing was mad at himself. 'Why do I get myself in these predicaments?' He let his own pride get the better of him. He should have informed Bruce, but he knew what Bruce would say, "Get more evidence," and that's precisely what he was trying to do when Jason got the drop on him. He knew he wasn't ready to go out, and yet he had to. He had to find out if his hypothesis was true, that it was Jason Todd behind Tim's attack. Jason only got the better of him because he was compromised more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't go to Bruce with just supposition and suspicion. He had to have hard evidence. 'I guess I got it now.' Nightwing mused.

Nightwing tried to work his hands free. If he could just bring his hands together he could reach . . .

"Don't even try it Golden Boy," Jason's voice came over the com-link built into his mask. "I have my eye on you, and I made certain you were completely weaponless. Remember, he trained me, too. You won't find what you're looking for."

Jason's words prompted Nightwing to still search for the small sharp blade he kept hidden in his left glove. It wasn't there.

"Why are you doing this Jason?" Nightwing asked. "Whatever it is we can talk this out."

"Like the way Batman talked to the Joker to keep him from killing me?"

"Look, I don't know anything about that."

"Don't try to kid a con artist. You knew."

"And what if I do know, what does killing me have to do with killing the Joker?"

"This isn't about the Joker," Jason said. "At least not this part. This little escapade is between you and me."

"I thought . . ." Nightwing was confused.

"Oh, I do want the Joker dead, but I also want you out of the limelight as well."

"Jason, this isn't like you."

"Oh isn't it?" Jason retorted. "You don't know me, Grayson. You never did. You weren't around that much. You never saw how much I had to suffer through Bruce's gloating."

"Jason, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? The perfect circus brat, the kid who could do no wrong. I had to listen to Bruce praise you every time I made a mistake. I had to work twice as hard to do one simple flip. It took me weeks to be even do two let alone three or four. Do you know how that made me feel, to be in your shadow? He didn't want me. He wanted you."

Nightwing was stunned. Was it true? Did Bruce really want him more than Jason? Then why did he even take Jason in? No, it couldn't be true. Bruce wouldn't simply admonish Jason and even belittle him like that. Jason had to be wrong.

"Look Jason, I'm sorry for not being around. Bruce and I were having our difficulties. I'm sorry if he might have taken some of that out on you. He wouldn't have taken you in if he didn't see something in you."

"BULL! I was a street kid, a thief . . ."

"Jason please . . ."

"Enough of this," Jason stated. "I have an appointment to keep."

"You can't do this!" Nightwing tried to reason but all that was left in his ear was static, and the counting down of the clock that was connected to the explosive device that was sure to mean his doom. With his arms pinned to his sides and his legs strapped together, there was no way he could be able to free himself in time once the bomb would go off and the cable were to snap. He was looking at a 50-story drop, right down to the pavement. It was his parents' deaths all over again, but this time it would be his, too.

/

Bruce stared at the screen, his mouth a tight line, his eyes narrow slits.

"Kill the Robin Killer" was obviously pointing to the one person whom he wished he had killed, but the big blue boy scout prevented him from doing so, all because for a short time, that pasty face maniac became Iran's ambassador. That obviously didn't last long once he confessed to Jason's murder. Bruce recalled that time vividly, how the Joker nearly destroyed the whole U.N. with his poison gas. How he almost got away, the helicopter exploding, and the Joker's body missing. Then he came back and nearly destroyed Barbara Gordon, putting her in a wheel chair, possibly for life. Why couldn't the system see just how dangerous the Joker really was, but in this state, the death penalty had been rescinded years ago, and all they could do was put the joker in prison or behind walls of stone and in a padded cell. And if he were to kill him . . . that not only would end it, it would end Batman. It would go completely against his principles. He almost did, but it would not bring Jason back.

"He cannot expect you to kill the Joker, can he?"

"I don't intend to, but if I don't Dick's life . . . "

"I can help," Tim stated.

"Tim, you should be in bed. You're not strong enough, yet."

"Bruce, I can do this. Dick needs help. You can't be in two places at once. I can rescue Dick while you go after Jason."

"Jason?"

"The Red Hood is Jason," Tim stated. "Dick and I figured it out. He went out to prove it."

"How do you know?" Bruce asked.

"Because he's the only person it could be. Who else knows that I became his replacement as Robin, besides you and Dick? Alfred of course and Dr, Tompkins."

"Barbara knows," Bruce pointed out.

"What about the Justice League. You've made it pretty clear that I have to keep my mask on at all times. So, who else?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"Plus, you and Jason, besides Dick and I, knew that it was the Joker who killed him. And even though his back was turned, I saw someone around my age that has strawberry blond hair with a white streak at Ra's al Ghul's stronghold. Who do we know fits that description?"

Tim held up Jason's old photo, the one where he first came to the Manor. The child had strawberry blond hair and a white streak that was barely visible then.

"But how can it be him?" Bruce asked. "There isn't enough evidence to prove that it is Jason."

"Then dig up his grave and you'll know."

"That bomb is going to go off in less than six hours. To dig up Jason's grave would be a waste of time."

"Isn't it worth the time to know for certain?" Tim argued. "Dick would argue the same thing."

Bruce had to admit the logic of Tim's words and the fact that Dick would also make that same argument. Time after time he had drilled into Dick's head when he was younger about gathering evidence. Was that what Dick was doing when he was ambushed? There was no hard evidence that the Red Hood was Jason Todd, and yet, how could it not be. Bruce's eyes were once again drawn to the screen. He couldn't let his eldest son down. There just had to be a way to rescue Dick, stop the Red Hood, and keep the Joker right where he was, in Arkham Asylum.

Continues with Part 29

A/N: Resources: A Death In The Family, A Lonely Place of Dying, and Under The Red Hood


	29. Chapter 29

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 29

Like all criminals, Jason made a mistake, and Nightwing was quick to pick up on it.

'So, if Jason's watching me, I'll take the chance that he's broadcasting my whereabouts to Bruce.'

Without another thought, Nightwing began mouthing what he knew, but not in a way that Jason would understand. Bruce and Dick had played this game before, several times in fact, and at several levels. He doubted whether Jason had the patience to learn Chess.

"Bruce, are you going to continue staring at that screen or are you going to dig up Jason's body and learn for yourself."

"You know, you're getting too big for those britches," Bruce said absently, but then he reached for a pad of paper and began writing something down.

"WT1 to PR24 to L4"

Nightwing continued to repeat what he was trying to convey. It wasn't easy. He hoped Bruce would be watching and understood. He was beginning to get lightheaded, and the constant swaying in the wind was beginning to make him nauseous. Within another twenty minutes, Nightwing's vision was blurring from the rush of blood to his head. He could no longer think straight now that no one was chatting with him on his com-link. He had nothing to focus on. It was harder to get his brain to cooperate let alone his mouth to form the words. Finally, Nightwing had no choice. He slipped into unconsciousness just as the moon was rising.

"Bruce . . ." Tim tried once more to get Bruce's attention.

Bruce tore the sheet from the pad then raced to the uniform vault.

"ALFRED!"

"Here, Master Bruce," Alfred stated. He didn't say anything but stood in the shadows after what he had seen. He knew when to stay out of Bruce Wayne's way when he went into Batman mode. When Tim showed, he didn't try to stop him, knowing full well that would be just as impossible.

"Prepare the batcopter. I need you to go to the Wayne Tower."

"Me, Sir?"

"I need you to rescue Nightwing."

"Master Bruce, I cannot fly the copter and rescue Master Richard at the same time."

"You can put the copter on hover . . ."

"But the bomb," Tim pointed out. "It will need to be disarmed. If that bomb goes off, it could cause damage to the building. And if there's anyone working inside . . . "

Tim was right. Even if NIghtwing were rescued there was still the bomb that had to be dealt with.

"Do you have the skill to disarm it?"

"No, but . . ."

"Let me go," a smaller voice stated.

"Damian?" Alfred was surprised as well as Bruce.

"Do you know how to disarm a bomb?"

"For a year my Grandfather would play this game with me when I was five," Damian explained, his face a mask. "The bombs never had any explosives, but they did have detonators and timers."

"I knew there was something I didn't like about Ra's al Ghul," Tim commented.

Damian continued without acknowledging Tim's offhand remark. "One day, I decided to play the game with one of the servants' children. I thought it would be fun. I set the timer for one minute. I'd gotten really good at stopping it within that amount of time, but I didn't realize the child I was playing with didn't. I was able to disarm my small bomb. The child wasn't."

The look on Damian's face said it all.

"You didn't know that the bomb was real," Bruce said.

"No," Damian replied, and his eyes narrowed. "And I have hated them ever since. That is why I prefer the direct approach when facing an enemy. A bomb is a coward's weapon."

"Get dressed. Wear something black and put on a mask."

"Master Bruce, you cannot allow your son to go out like this."

"We have no choice. Someone has to rescue Dick and I have to face . . . " Bruce didn't want to voice Jason's name. It would be a reminder at how much he failed the boy; that he did not get there in time to save his life. Even so, he still wasn't convinced that the person he was going to face was Jason Todd. He would have to deal with it when he got there.

/

'Why did I volunteer for this?' Damian questioned. "Because Todd wants Grayson dead and using a bomb is a coward's way out.'

"Master Damian, are you sure you can do this?"

"I disarmed bombs for a year of my life. It's not something you forget," Damian stated. 'And when did my grandfather start using live ammo.'

They reached the Wayne Tower and saw for themselves close up the predicament that Nightwing was in. Not only were his hands pinned the cable was wrapped around each wrist making it more difficult to move. Plus his legs were strapped together all the way down to his ankles. It looked like some giant spider had caught him in a web and was planning on having NIghtwing as his dinner.

"Get me as close to the cable as you can, Pennyworth," Damian instructed. "I'll work on the bomb first."

"Be careful Master Damian, it is a long drop," Alfred stated.

"I'm well aware of gravity," Damian replied and thought, 'My Grandfather started dangling me over cliffs to teach me not to be afraid of heights, but this could test any one's resolve.' Damian tried to grab the cable, but the wind was buffeting it around too much. "You've got to get me closer, Pennyworth."

"I dare not, Master Damian. The blades may cut the cable."

The thought caused Damian's stomach to do flip-flops. And the image of Nightwing plummeting to his death reared up into his mind. 'No, I cannot let that happen.' And yet other thoughts warred within him. 'You have an opportunity, kill him. He is after all a rival for your father's affections and only a true Wayne should inherit.' Damian shook his head. 'NO! Those are my Grandfather's words. If Grayson were to die it would destroy Father.'

"Master Damian, the timer," Alfred stated trying to remind him of the gravity of their situation. Even so, he could not help thinking as he watched Damian hesitate. 'The poor lad, he must be frightened.'

Without another hesitation, Damian placed a harness around his waste securing him to the copter. After making sure he had his tools, he leapt out into space. Time seemed to slow down. The distance seemed to grow wider and Damian feared he might miss grabbing the cable, but his aim was true and suddenly the cable was within his grasp. He landed a few feet above the bomb. He would have to grasp the cable with his legs and twist his body so he was upside down in order to defuse it. Hopefully, it would be a simple operation. Damian slipped down the cable so he was closer to the bomb and did just that, grasping and wrapping the taught cable with his legs then turning upside down.

'I don't know how Grayson does this," Damian stated in his mind. Once the oleander poison was deemed clear from his system, Damian noticed Grayson had gone back to working out in the cave. He didn't want to admit that he was fascinated with the routine that his older brother was performing on a narrow bar high above the cave floor. Now Damian was doing his best to act like Grayson to prevent a bomb going off to plunge him to his death. He had to force those images out of his mind.

Damian reached the bomb and began the delicate work of trying to disarm it. The first thing he noticed was that the bomb wasn't like the ones he learned to disarm when he was five. Those had colored wires, each representing the timer, the detonator and explosive, and a fake. These wires were not color-coded. He had to follow them to their source. Luckily, he had the time. That was another mistake on Jason's part; unless he was to cut the wrong wire and the timer were suddenly to speed up. He didn't want to think about that.

'Just get on with it, Wayne,' Damian said to himself. He almost stopped when he realized what name he called himself. Instead he steeled himself inside and made his choice.

Continues with Part 30


	30. Chapter 30

The Meeting

By

AJ

Part 30

Bruce dawned his Batman uniform, climbed into the batmobile, and headed to Gotham City. His thoughts were preoccupied with Dick and hoping that Damian would be successful at rescuing him. Damian was untried as a hero. Being trained by the League of Shadows and Ra's al Ghul colored his perception of the boy. After tonight, his view of Damian would change considerably.

'I've been taking my anger out on him with regards to Talia, and I cannot blame him for being Ra's al Ghul's grandson. I should learn to get to know the boy.'

His thoughts returned to the moment at hand when he arrived at Crime Alley. He parked the batmobile a few blocks away this time to be on the safe side. He climbed to the rooftops and made his way to across the street just as Nightwing had done. Nightwing had given him the location and he knew it quite well. He landed on the roof of the building across the street at 24 Park Row. He found Nightwing's miniature camera lying near the edge of the roof in the shadows. He picked it up and placed it in his utility belt.

'I'm surprised his attacker didn't take it to destroy it, unless he wants me to find it.'

After years of training, Batman's sixth sense was tingling, letting him know there was someone behind him, but he did not move. He waited for the individual to make his move. It wasn't long until the person behind him did then Batman acted, bringing up his arm to throat level and stepping aside. The person slammed into his arm and hit the roof hard landing on their back. Batman turned to see a man in a red helmet wearing a brown jacket, lying on the rooftop pavement. At his hip was a holster with a large caliper pistol.

The individual coughed then cleared their throat as he got up. "Very good, I could never sneak up on you. Looks like we meet again in this place. How long as it been five years?"

"What do you want?" Batman said. It was more of a demand than an actual question.

"Did you do it?" the man in the red helmet asked his own question instead. "You know he deserves to after what he did."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The Joker, did you kill him like I asked."

"That wasn't asking. That was blackmail, one life for another. I don't negotiate with blackmailers, even if it is justified."

"So, you do believe the Joker should die," the man in the red helmet stated. "Then why didn't you kill him?"

"It's not my place to judge, even if he's guilty of the most heinous of crimes," Batman shot back.

"Then you never loved ME and golden boy bites the dust."

'NO! Then it is true!' Batman stated, "Jason!"

"So, you know."

"You kill Nightwing and you'll be guilty of murder. You are already guilty for attempting to kill Robin."

"He's not Robin! I was, but you let me die!"

"Let me see your face."

"Why?"

"I don't want to be talking to a red helmet." Batman stated.

Jason Todd removed the helmet. Taller than when Batman remembered, his face no longer had the boyish cherub look. He had the angular features of a boy turned into a man. His hair was no longer black, but it's true color with its broad white streak running through it. His eyes were covered with a domino mask, as if to still protect what he felt inside, but it could not hide it all. The clenched jaw and the deep lines around his mouth still revealed the struggle he was going through. "Why. All I want to know is WHY!"

"Believe me, I had not choice," Batman stated.

"Oh you had a choice Bruce, you just didn't want to," Jason said, then launched himself at his mentor one more time.

Bruce dodged out of the way, trying to avoid the knife that appeared in Jason's hands. Because he didn't get what he wanted, all the resentments had been built for this moment. It went like that for several minutes, Jason trying to get into Bruce's wheelhouse to use his knife while Bruce dodged and weaved trying to avoid using what force he needed to take Jason down. He didn't want to hurt him.

Jason roared his rage, "Auuuuugggghhh." Trying to get inside. Every time he slashed at Bruce, the man was able to avoid him.

Bruce could see all the pent up rage that Jason had built over the years, his resentment believing that Dick had been the perfect Robin, the golden boy that could do no wrong, the one who followed the rules. There was the fact that his father worked for Two-Face and then died at the hands of Two-Face just because he wanted a better life for his son, Then the death of his step-mother from cancer, that he could not prevent, blaming everyone else for not taking care of her, his birth mother for her betrayal of him, and the Joker for what he did. And finally, his hatred of Bruce for not getting there on time, blaming him for everything, including training him to be what he probably should not have been in the first place. He blamed society as a whole for his predicament, never taking responsibility for his own life, and even death, believing that those responsible deserved whatever they got for the harm they would commit.

Batman waited him out, allowing Jason to come close, but never hitting the mark, until finally, a noise in the com-link in his cowl distracted him enough that Jason struck, stabbing Bruce in the ribs, just above his liver.

Jason pulled away leaving the small knife in Bruce's ribs, this time his face paled at the fact that he actually succeeded in stabbing his mentor . . . his father. He assumed that Bruce would defeat him easily, and at any other time he would.

"Go ahead, kill me," Bruce said taking the chance.

"No . . .I . . ."

"If it's what you want. I won't stop you."

""Why?" Jason pleaded once more. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"I wanted to, so badly, but he worked it so he had diplomatic immunity. He became Iran's ambassador, but when another terrorist faction believed he cheated them, they tried to kill him. It was my job to protect him despite my feelings toward him. I thought he had been killed, but his body was never found." Bruce did not elaborate further, knowing it would not help Jason's cause.

Batman suddenly staggered. 'Poison on the blade?'

He started to fall, when Jason caught him.

"You have . . . never fully accepted . . . that justice . . . does not mean revenge," Batman stated.

"No . . . This wasn't what I wanted," Jason stated. "Why did you let me do this? Why didn't you stop me? All I wanted was HIM . . . JUST HIM . . . And now . . . you've made me . . ." Tears of anguish streamed down Jason's face.

"In my utility belt . . ." Batman indicated.

"Of course, I should have known. You always come prepared."

Jason grabbed the small white pill. He fingered it in his glove, like a precious gem. He could let it drop, but that would not resolve the fact that the Joker was still alive. Did he want Bruce dead for everything that he's done? No, not really. Jason could here Batman's breathing was becoming more labored. It would be so easy just to let him die, but he realized that would not solve anything. It wouldn't relieve the pain he was suffering any more than killing the Joker would have done. It would not bring back his stepmother; the one who truly showed him love.

Jason placed the white pill in Batman's mouth. Within moments the pill began the work of clearing Batman's system and his breathing became less labored. The universal antidote pill took care of most poisons and drugs. Jason continued to sit on the ground defeated while Batman recovered, though he continued to bleed from the wound in his side, it wasn't severe enough to warrant immediate attention.

"You know what I have to do, Jason."

"You have to turn me in," Jason said quietly.

"I'm taking you to Arkham."

"You're not taking me to jail?"

"They can't prosecute a dead man," Batman stated. "And what you've done can be readily explained. One question, the mob bosses' seconds, what happened to them?"

"You don't want to know," Jason answered, now ashamed of what he had done. He thought it would bring him closer to peace, but it didn't. It only brought on more pain.

"Was it Ra's al Ghul's doing?"

"In a way. He wanted me to get inside, use the money that the drug cartel would make to finance his own means. I'd get a percentage. I'd be in charge of all Gotham City, while he'd spread his fifth to other cities just as corrupt. Bludhaven would have been next."

"And what was that?" Batman asked.

"A means to kill every man, woman, and child whoever committed a crime against nature."

"You'll still have to live with what you've done in some way. Going to Arkham will be a start."

"I don't understand."

"You were under the influence of a madman."

"You got that right," Jason said. "Bruce, I'm sorry."

At that moment Batman's com-link crackled a second time.

"Master Bruce, we have him. Damian was able to disable the bomb and we were able to pull Master Richard to safety. What about the Red Hood?"

"Everything has been taken care of, Alfred. I'll see you at home. Oh I might need a few stitches. I seemed to have cut myself."

"Very good, Sir."

"It's time to go, Jason."

Batman pulled Jason up from his knees, but did not cuff him. He picked up the red helmet and with Jason in tow, he moved to the edge of the building, shot out his grappling hook, grabbed Jason by the waste and together they swung down to the pavement and walked back to the batmobile. Jason was subdued, sulking and brooding as always. It was going to take a long time for the anger that he felt to be worked out. He would still have to go before a tribunal with regards to his attack on Robin, let alone the disappearance of the mob boss lieutenants. Though they were no big loss, they were still people and should have been brought to justice through the proper channels.

It was going to be difficult enough to explain Jason suddenly reappearing after being thought dead for five years, but that was far simpler than he thought. When Bruce thought he was dead, Jason had been taken by Ra's al Ghul for his own plans, kept him a prisoner, maybe even brainwashed him. Jason might have even suffered some amnesia from the blast that nearly killed him. For now, there were other matters that needed taken care of, such as exhuming a body that isn't his son's.

Continues with Epilogue


	31. Chapter 31

The Meeting

By

AJ

Epilogue

"Are you certain this is wise?" Alfred questioned. It's been five years since . . . His body would have decomposed."

"Alfred, didn't we explain to you that whoever is buried in here isn't Jason." Dick explained.

"I know Master Richard, but the boy buried in that grave should be left in peace."

"We have to find out who the boy is," Tim explained. "That way we can inform the family who might be missing their own son after all this time."

Bruce didn't say a word as he used the backhoe to dig up the grave of Jason Todd. Dick and Tim were there with shovels waiting to dig around the exposed coffin. Once Bruce had cleared away most of the dirt, the rest was simple.

Alfred turned away not wanting to watch the proceedings. Instead he walked back to the Manor to prepare some coffee and hot cocoa. He would learn later what it was they found.

Everyone worked in silence until the backhoe hit something metallic. Then Tim and Dick went to work with the shovels. They uncovered as much as they could to be able to remove the seal and open the lid. They stepped aside so Bruce could get to the lid.

Taking a mallet and a chisel, Bruce broke the seal. Then taking a crowbar he wedged it in between the base and the lid and created a gap. With the help of Dick Grayson, both men were able to lift the lid. All three gasped at what they saw, a perfectly preserved body of a 14-year-old boy lying in the silken bed as if asleep.

"So, you were right," Bruce said.

"I knew it," Dick said. He reached down in the coffin and felt the "skin" of the body. "It's not real. It's some kind of artificial plastic made to look like skin. It's a good likeness. If anyone had opened the coffin back then you'd see what was expected. They wanted you to believe that this was the body of Jason Todd."

"Except for one detail," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Dick said quietly. There wasn't any cuts or bruising to the pristine cherub like face.

"You suspected?" Tim asked.

"It was the only possible solution," Dick replied.

"So, what did happen?" Tim asked.

"I remember carrying Jason's battered and broken body from the scene . . . from the remains of the warehouse. His biological Mother was there as well. She told me everything, that it was the Joker, how he tied them both up, how Jason tried to protect her from the blast of the bomb. She died in my arms. I removed what evidence I could along with Jason's costume as Robin. I had to explain to the authorities, telling them that I didn't know how the blast happened. Then I went after the Joker. I didn't find him. I had to return Jason and his Mother to the States. I never looked in the coffin to know that it was Jason. I just assumed it was. Dick, how did you know that it wasn't Jason?"

"Something that Tim told me," Dick said. "He said he saw someone around his age and that he had that unique strawberry blond hair with a white streak. I remember meeting Jason when he first came to live at the Manor and seeing that white streak. He hadn't died his hair yet. And I remembered you telling me about the time Ra's al Ghul supposedly died and then minutes after you and Talia left . . ."

"The Lazarus pit," Bruce stated. "Ra's could have stolen his body and used the pit to bring him back to life, but why?"

"I learned there was a connection between Ra's and the Joker,' Dick stated, "But I couldn't quite understand why. Then I remembered reading how Ra's tried to get some changes made with regards to one of his causes and that was with regards to the environment. I read what those changes were and they were pretty extreme. The UN would not have backed it with what he was asking."

"So why hire the Joker?" Tim asked

"I don't think he was hiring him as much as financing him and he realized he made a mistake, especially when he learned just what the Joker was going to do," Dick continued. "The Joker can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be. Ra's al Ghul didn't want people dead. He wanted people to see reason, to back his environmental plan, which by the way was to ban all manufacturing and return the land to nature. The Joker though had his own plans."

"So how does Jason come into all of this?" Tim asked.

"Simple, I don't think Jason was part of Ra's al Ghul's plans and having learned that backing the Joker had been madness and what he did, I'm guessing that he decided to return Jason to us. Jason turning up and learning about the Joker was totally coincidental. He was merely there searching for his birth mother and ended up being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And I'm sure Ra's just wanted to do something to appease his conscience"

"But at the same time use Jason for his own plans so he brought him back to life, a bit changed," Tim surmised.

"Maybe," Bruce said. "Jason was very troubled. He never dealt with his stepmother's death or the fact that his father had also been murdered by Two-Face. And I am certain he resented me for having held back the information that his father had worked for Two-Face before he was murdered."

'Not to mention you rode him pretty hard to train him as Robin," Dick stated.

"I did no less with him than I did with you," Bruce pointed out. "Jason though was far more impatient and too eager to use what he learned to get back at those he believed deserved it."

"He told me that you would compare him to me when he would make mistakes," Dick said.

"I may have said something once or twice . . . but then I realized he wasn't you. He needed to find his own way. The mistake that I made was allowing him out into the field while he was still working on his anger. He wasn't ready to deal with criminals while he was still grieving over his stepmother's death."

"And I bet finding out that his biological mother was alive only compounded the problems," Dick pointed out.

"He wasn't thinking clearly when he revealed his secret identity to her and jeopardized her life as well as his own," Bruce added. Bruce remembered how he nearly did the same thing with his own life after Jason's death, putting himself in danger, not thinking about the consequences of his actions. If it hadn't been for Tim reminding him the importance of Robin being there . . .

"What's going to happen to him?" Tim asked.

"Well, you can't prosecute a dead man," Bruce pointed out. "He's been sent to Arkham."

"Is that wise?" Dick asked. "Arkham hasn't always been the best place."

Bruce gave his eldest son a smirk. 'He sounded like Alfred,' then stated. "There are some good psychiatrists there. He won't be in with the likes of the Joker. He'll be in their hospital wing. If he can deal with the anger and the resentment, he'll be welcome back home."

"He really went with you peacefully?" Dick shook his head. "Oh yeah, dumb question. No one can defeat Batman. It probably was go peacefully or go in pieces."

"What if he still wishes to call himself the Red Hood?"

"Then I'll just have to learn to accept having a 'criminal' in the family. Come on let's get the samples we need then rebury this thing. We need to tell Alfred what we found as well as prepare an official statement for the press."

"He should have his famous chocolate chunk cookies and some hot cocoa waiting for us," Tim added.

"Good old Alfred," Dick said. "I don't know what we'd do without him."

"You took the words right out of my mouth Dick," Bruce gave Dick a slight smile, one that was always reserved for him. He hadn't done that in a long time. For some reason, his heart felt lighter. Maybe because there was hope once more. His second son had been returned to him, though not in the way that he expected. Even so, with the help of some good people, perhaps some day, they could all be a family. Perhaps even Damian might learn to open up more as well. He could only hope.

End

A/N: This story turned into my version of Under the Red Hood. It was totally unexpected. I thought the story would end once Tim got the antidote for Dick, but that was not the case. Sometimes you just have to follow where your muse is leading.

I'll be taking a break from posting for a while. I'm working on a new story and I need time to enter it into the computer. I've taken two of my Bat Shorts and turned them into a longer story. I hope you'll like it when I'm done. Though you never know, my muse just might strike before that and you'll probably see a few more Bat Shorts before then.

A final word. My muse figured that after resurrecting Jason, Ra's al Ghul not only retrained him but encouraged Jason to use whatever weapon he chose. Jason was drawn to knives and guns, the way his biological father was. Plus, Ra's probably "fed" Jason's resentment and anger, especially with regards to the fact that Bruce wasn't there to rescue him from the Joker (there's a short story in there somewhere). And I figured Jason was sent to Gotham soon after Damian's mother took him to Bruce. Even though Ra's admires Bruce's skill as a detective, he doesn't see him as a worthy successor so much because of his constant refusal to marry his daughter. He would also see Bruce as a rival, and because Bruce and Ra's views of the world are different. My muse also figured that Ra's would use his own grandson to kill his rivals, and that would include Dick. And if he somehow refused, learning what kind of a man his father was, along with Grayson, Damian would have a hard time doing it, so Jason was sent to be his second, to step in if Damian couldn't do the deed. There's more on that too. I figured Talia filled Damian's head with stories about her adventures with Batman, and Damian probably wanted to meet him, but Ra's also trained him to be his father's executioner with or without Talia's consent. That's a story for another time.


End file.
